


Elusion

by Quillbreaker



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-05-09 17:23:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 119
Words: 175,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14720420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quillbreaker/pseuds/Quillbreaker
Summary: Harry knows that he is dying. He just wants to elude Voldemort until death catches up with him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vladimir_Mithrander](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vladimir_Mithrander/gifts), [Gurgaraneth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gurgaraneth/gifts), [Jashinistgirl1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jashinistgirl1/gifts), [FallenAngells](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallenAngells/gifts), [Dvasia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dvasia/gifts), [RubinSea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubinSea/gifts), [mayawene](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mayawene/gifts), [Millie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Millie/gifts), [yifthioeev](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yifthioeev/gifts), [Bella4evr3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bella4evr3/gifts), [mithrilandtj](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mithrilandtj/gifts), [GeekyMom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeekyMom/gifts), [CrazyJanaCat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazyJanaCat/gifts), [h0wlingw0lf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/h0wlingw0lf/gifts), [Shadoween](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadoween/gifts), [xoverqueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xoverqueen/gifts), [BluC1026](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BluC1026/gifts).



He was standing in front of the sink again. This time wasn't any different from the twelve previous times. He stared emptily at the blood in the sink, crimson red against the stark white marble. He looked up at his reflection in the mirror and was met with a ghost like image. His messy black curls stood in sharp contrast to his deathly pale complexion. His once vivid green eyes, stared back at him, completely devoid of life and lustreless. He wiped away the trickle of blood that ran down his chin and splashed water over his face.

He walked out of the bathroom and looked at his dark room. The Dursleys were gone and the house was blissfully quiet. Harry fell back on the bed and closed his eyes. He was dying. He knew it. But he wasn't upset about it. He would finally be with Sirius again. Harry closed his eyes and clutched the covers as he remembered Sirius. Fresh tears welled up in his eyes and he cried. He still had to avenge Sirius. He had vowed to avenge him.

Harry felt the pain in his stomach. He deserved it. Harry heard the tapping on his window. Hedwig was back. Harry got up to his feet steadily and unlatched the window. Hedwig swooped in and sat on his shoulder. Harry stroked her feathers gently and she affectionately nibbled on a lock of his hair.

He placed her on the ledge and walked down to the kitchen. He never really had an appetite these days but he knew he had to eat. Harry fixed himself a sandwich and began eating it. The sound of footsteps outside, forced Harry to place his sandwich down. He pulled out his wand and cautiously backed away. A sudden explosion knocked him down to the floor as glass rained over him.

Harry looked up but he couldn't see anything because of the smoke. He fired a spell blindly and felt it hit its mark. Shouts and cries echoed through the house. Harry crawled under the kitchen counter for cover as curses were fired in his direction. Harry knew that it was the death eaters but the question that puzzled him was how they had managed to get in the house. He didn't have the strength to deal with this. His gaze landed on the back door that led to the backyard. Could he reach it?

Harry crawled towards it. The footsteps and voices were in the living room. Harry pulled open the door and crawled out as he felt curses whiz pass him and shatter objects around him. Harry got up to his feet and ran. He jumped over the picket fence and ran like he had never run before. He would not get caught. He would not die at Voldemort's hands.

Harry raised his wand arm and hoped that the knight bus would appear. A loud bang announced the appearance of the huge triple decker bus. Stan Shunpike was about to step down when Harry stopped him and rushed past him inside the bus,

"Drive. Just drive."

The bangs that followed compelled Ernie to drive. The knight bus shot forward and Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Stan grabbed him from the collar and spoke,

"What is the meaning of this?"

Harry pushed him away and spoke,

"I was attacked by death eaters."

Stan stepped back. Harry sat down on the edge of a single bed and spoke again,

"I really don't have any money to pay you."

Stan said,

"I suppose you want to go to the leaky cauldron?"

Harry nodded his head. He would have to go to Gringotts first to get some money. Harry felt his heart beating out of his chest. He had left Hedwig in the room. He hoped that the Death Eaters hadn't harmed her. The other thing he was worried about was his belongings. His invisibility cloak and the Marauders Map were his most prized possessions and he didn't want them to be anywhere near Voldemort.

Harry coughed and held his hand up to his mouth. The ministry must be tracking him. He had fired several spells at the Dursley's place. Harry looked down at his wand. How could he get the trace removed from it? He really didn't want anyone to follow him. Harry closed his eyes. He just wanted to kill Bellatrix Lestrange and then he wanted to spend his remaining days in peace.

Harry's thought process was interested as Stan announced Leaky Cauldron. Harry got up to his feet and stepped out of the bus,

"I'll make it up to you, Stan."

Stan chuckled and patted him on the shoulder,

"Stay safe, Potter."

The knight bus shot into the night with a bang. Harry stepped into the leaky cauldron and felt every single eye trained on him. Harry stepped into the back and tapped the bricks with his wand to reveal the entrance to Diagon Alley. He walked on the cobblestone street and rushed towards Gringotts.

Half an hour later, Harry stepped out of Gringotts with a pouch full of galleons. He could spend as extravagantly as he wanted now. There was no future to plan for. Harry purchased a rucksack and a couple of pairs of jeans and shirts. He made his way back to the leaky cauldron.

He had just entered when he was completely surrounded by Aurors. A man walked towards him with a slight limp. He looked rather like an old lion with grey streaks in his mane of tawny hair and bushy eyebrows. He had keen yellowish eyes and wore wire-rimmed spectacles. The Aurors backed away from Harry,

"I'm Rufus Scrimgeour, the new Minister of Magic."

Harry looked at him and stepped back,

"I must be very important if you have come to visit me personally."

Scrimgeour smiled warmly and spoke,

"You're the chosen one, Mr. Potter."

Harry laughed bitterly,

"The chosen one… "

Scrimgeour rested his hand on Harry's shoulder,

"We should sit and talk, Harry."

Harry was about to pull away when Scrimgeour slowly whispered in his ear,

"If you do not wish to put on trial for the use of underage magic and breaching the statue of secrecy then you shall behave, Mr. Potter."

Harry grew still as he was steered up the stairs and into a room.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry was forced into a room on the upper floor of the Leaky Cauldron. Scrimgeour entered the room and considered Harry, who was gripped by two Aurors. He signalled them to release him,

"Sit down, Harry."

Harry kept standing. Scrimgeour sighed and the Aurors forced Harry into a chair,

"You look pale, Harry. Have you been eating properly?"

Harry didn't reply and continued to glare at Scrimgeour. Scrimgeour continued to smile and spoke,

"You are the chosen one according to the prophecy and I wish for you to cooperate with the Ministry."

Harry met Scrimgeour's gaze and spoke,

"What if I don't want to cooperate?"

Scrimgeour straightened up in his seat and spoke,

"You do not have a choice in the matter, Harry."

Harry got up to his feet,

"I won't cooperate. You can take away my wand. You can expel me from Hogwarts. You can lock me up in Azkaban. But I will not cooperate with you at any cost."

Scrimgeour's smile turned into an expression of pure rage,

"Very well, Mr. Potter. You shall receive your summons for the trial very soon."

Harry looked at Scrimgeour and asked,

"A trial for what? For trying to defend myself? For trying to escape the death eaters that attacked me?"

Scrimgeour laughed,

"Oh, Harry. You do have quite the imagination. Attacked by death eaters? Just like you were attacked by imaginary dementors last time."

Harry turned around and stormed out of the room. He walked straight out of the Leaky Cauldron and into Diagon Alley Where would he go now? Grimmauld place was one of the options but there was a chance that the order was still using it as their headquarters. He didn't want to see anyone. He just wanted to be alone. Where else would he go?

He was just passing Ollivander's shop when an explosion knocked him to the ground. Shouts and cries echoed through the air. Harry looked up from his position on the ground and saw a group of masked and hooded death eaters entering the wand shop. Harry pulled out his wand and got up to his feet. He knew that he should run and escape while he still had the chance but he just couldn't let Ollivander get hurt. He entered the shop as quietly as possible and heard the death eater's jeering from the back room.

He stealthily made his way to the door that led to the back room. Adrenaline was coursing through his veins. His heart was beating out of his chest. Harry counted to three and then burst through the door. He casted as many stunners as possible. Some of them hit their mark while the rest were deflected. Harry ducked behind the door as he felt curses whiz past him. He was hugely outnumbered and there was no way he could beat that many death eaters. But he just couldn't run either.

Harry felt his blood boil as Bellatrix's voice rang through the air,

"Come out, come out wherever you are."

He didn't care about anything now. He just wanted to silence that voice for good. Harry jumped out from his position behind the door and stepped in front of the death eaters,

"Here I am."

The masked death eater at the very front pulled off the mask and Harry was greeted by the hateful sneering face of Bellatrix Lestrange. Harry's sole focus was on Bellatrix. She giggled childishly and spoke in a mocking voice,

"Lookey who we have here. It is ity bitty baby Potter."

He raised his wand and spoke the words,

"Avada Kedavra."

A faint flash of green light exited Harry's wand but died down before reaching Bellatrix. Bellatrix laughed maniacally and slashed her wand in the air. A flash of red and Harry's world was shrouded in darkness as he collapsed to the ground.

Bellatrix bent over Harry's unconscious form and laughed again,

"The Dark Lord will be extremely pleased."

The death eaters jeered. Bellatrix signalled one of them to grab Ollivander, who was crouching in the corner. Bellatrix grabbed Harry by the hair, raised her wand towards the sky and spoke,

"Morsmorde."

She looked down at Harry again and laughed. The Dark Lord would be very happy. She apparated along with the other death eaters.

* * *

Harry woke up in a dark dungeon. His scar was burning up. He sat up straight and heard screaming from the upper floor. What was going on? Where was he? He remembered what had happened and banged his head against the wall. He wasn't good for anything. He couldn't even ask a killing curse right. Harry realized that his wand was gone and so was his rucksack. He looked around and found Ollivander sitting against the wall a few inches away from him. Harry rushed towards him and asked,

"How are you?"

Ollivander looked at him and spoke,

"You should have run, Mr. Potter."

Harry shook his head and pressed the palm of his hand to his burning scar in an attempt to soothe it. Voldemort was just upstairs. He looked at Ollivander and spoke,

"I couldn't just leave you."

The screaming died down and Harry breathed out a sigh of relief. He was mildly aware of the fact that he would be next but that didn't terrify him. He wasn't afraid. Harry coughed and held his hand to his mouth. Every time he coughed, he was reminded of the fact that he was dying. All of this was inconsequential. None of it mattered. He wouldn't live long enough to see who ruled the magical world. He didn't even care. Voldemort could take over wherever he wanted. All he wanted was to see Bellatrix die. He wanted justice for Sirius.

Harry's scar burned stronger than before and a cry escaped his lips. Ollivander turned to Harry and held his shoulder,

"Are you alright, Mr. Potter?"

Harry nodded his head and slumped against the wall. Ollivander poured Harry a glass of water from the jug. Harry drank it in silence. He had just set the glass down when he heard approaching footsteps and Harry's scar exploded in pain.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry's scar burned excruciatingly. He held his head in his hand and bit his lower lip to hold back the scream that threatened to escape his lips. Harry had his eyes closed tightly but he could hear the metal door opening with a rusty creek and he footsteps approaching. Harry felt his lip tear and he felt the metallic taste of blood fill his mouth. The footsteps drew closer and the pain reached new heights. He felt Voldemort's presence close to him and the pain grew intolerable. Harry threw back his head and screamed.

Harry didn't know what was what anymore. All he knew that his scar was burning up and it was killing him sooner than he had expected. The pain vanished unexpectedly and Harry's eyes shot open. He felt his cheek against the cold stone floor and he saw an extremely well-polished shoe close to his head. Harry's body trembled uncontrollably and he coughed. He raised himself up on his knees shakily. He knew who was standing in front of him. But he didn't care. A smooth, silky voice shattered the silence of the room.

"Harry Potter, The Chosen one and my prophesized enemy."

Harry didn't look up but he felt that something was wrong. Voldemort hadn't sounded like that the last time he had heard his voice. Harry felt himself looking up out of curiosity and his jaw dropped in astonishment. Was this really Voldemort? The man standing in front of him was too handsome to be Voldemort. Harry was curious. He had nothing to lose so he got up to his feet and looked at Voldemort closely. After his observation, Harry came to the conclusion that this was indeed Voldemort because despite the handsome features, the crimson eyes were the same. Harry was about to touch Voldemort on the cheek when Voldemort gripped his wrist and smirked in amusement,

"You have reached new heights of fearlessness, Harry. It shall not help you survive."

Harry wiped the blood trickling down his chin with his thumb. He had torn his lip too badly. He met Voldemort's gaze and spoke,

"The prophecy is a lie. I'm not the chosen one and I will not be defeating you."

Voldemort tilted his head and his amused smirk grew wider,

"It does not matter whether it is a lie or the truth. I shall not be taking any chances. You shall die, Harry Potter."

Harry stepped forward and spoke,

"I am not going to die at your hands."

He coughed again and held his hand to his mouth. Voldemort looked inquisitively at Harry and spoke,

"You seem paler. Has Dumbledore not been taking care of you?"

Harry removed his hand from his mouth, smiled and spoke,

"I'm fine."

Voldemort drew closer to Harry and spoke,

"You are lying."

Harry stepped back and looked away,

"It doesn't matter. Why do you even care?"

Voldemort gripped Harry's chin and forced him to meet his gaze,

"Tell me the truth."

Harry met Voldemort's gaze and pulled away from Voldemort,

"I am fine."

Voldemort looked at Harry and spoke,

"Are you prepared to die then?"

Harry looked up at Voldemort,

"No, I am not. Not yet."

Voldemort looked at Harry and Harry saw something flash in his eyes,

"Your godfather passed away recently."

Harry felt tears unwillingly well up in his eyes and he looked away. Voldemort forced Harry to meet his gaze,

"Are you considering suicide, Harry?"

Harry had considered it but fate had decided something else for him. Harry shook his head and wiped away the tears,

"I am not that weak."

Voldemort tsked and released Harry,

"You are weak, Harry. Your tears are proof of that."

Voldemort turned around to leave and spoke,

"You have made me very curious, Harry. You get to live another day."

Voldemort left the basement, walked up the stairs and locked the door behind him. Harry sat back down against the wall. Voldemort's last statement had made him worried. He hadn't wanted to make Voldemort curious. Ollivander drew closer to Harry and asked him,

"Are you alright, Mr. Potter?"

Harry nodded his head. He wasn't alright. Everything was messed up. All he had wanted was for Bellatrix to die so that he could die in peace. But now he would be facing a trial and possible conviction at the ministry and he was imprisoned by Voldemort. Well at least he didn't have to worry about a trial anymore. Voldemort fully intended to kill him before that and there was no way he could escape from here.

Harry closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall. He hoped that the order didn't know of his absence. He didn't want to face any of them. Maybe it was better this way. He despised Dumbledore. No, scratch that. He hated Dumbledore. Harry didn't know when he dozed off.

He woke up with a start and realized that Ollivander was shaking him,

"Wake up, Mr. Potter. You must eat something."

Harry sat up straighter and realized that his stomach was indeed grumbling. Ollivander slid the tray of food towards Harry. Harry looked down at it and realized that there was only a single piece of bread and a bowl of watery soup on it. The amount of food was enough for only one person and he felt that Ollivander needed the sustenance more than him. Harry slid the tray of food back towards Ollivander and spoke,

"I'm not hungry."

Ollivander looked knowingly at him and spoke,

"You have to eat."

Harry shook his head and closed his eyes again,

"I really can't eat anything. I feel like I'll throw up."

He suppressed his hunger and focused on sleep again. It came easily and soon enough he found himself in his troubled dreams.

Harry saw the Dursleys hugging each other and cowering in the corner of a room. They were begging for mercy. He spoke in a cold harsh voice,

"Tell me everything now!"

Harry saw his uncle speak,

"We don't know what's wrong with the freak. He stays locked up in his room."

Voldemort roared in rage,

"Did you just address him as a freak?"

Before Vernon Dursley could reply a flash of green illuminated the room.

Harry woke up and a cry escaped his lips. He held his hand to his prickling scar. Voldemort had killed the Dursleys. Harry felt his heart racing and he drew several deep breaths. The Dursleys were dead but Harry couldn't bring himself to cry. He couldn't even muster a single tear. Voldemort had been asking them about him. He thanked the heavens that no one knew about his condition.

Harry turned around and found Ollivander staring at him with deep concern. Harry wiped the sweat from his brow and spoke,

"I'm fine. Don't worry."


	4. Chapter 4

Harry had his head against the cold stone wall. He shivered involuntarily because of the cold and wrapped his arms around himself. It had been two days and he hadn't had a bite to eat because he didn't want Ollivander to starve. Harry hadn't shed a single tear upon the Dursleys death. He had expected Voldemort to visit him again but the man hadn't shown up. His scar hadn't hurt either which meant that Voldemort was busy somewhere else. It was good. He didn't want to talk to the man. He just wanted to be alone. Harry closed his eyes and felt himself drifting away.

Voldemort sat in his throne and read the letter in his hands. After he was done, he folded the letter and vanished it. The death eaters stood before him with their heads bowed. He stood up and held his wand to the nearest death eater's neck,

"You led the attack on Potter's house? Why was I not informed of this attack?"

The death eater trembled in fear and fell upon his knees,

"My lord, I only wished to please you by bringing Potter to you."

Voldemort dug his wand in the man's neck and whispered,

"I am not pleased, am I?"

He cast a wordless Crucio and let the man writhe on the floor. He stepped back and retook his seat,

"Consider this a warning. If a single one of you acts without my orders, I shall decapitate them."

The death eaters immediately fell on their own knees and murmured apologies and praises. Voldemort lifted the curse from Avery and spoke to a death eater standing beside him,

"Fetch Potter from downstairs."

The death eater bowed and swept out of the room. He made his way downstairs and opened the metal gate with a loud clang. Ollivander looked up and regarded the death eater. The man went directly to where Harry sat and spoke,

"Get up, Potter."

There was no reply. He bent down and shook him and yet there was no response. The death eater stood up and kicked Harry with his boot,

"Get up this instant, Potter."

Harry's limp form slid from his upright posture to the ground and the death eater realized that he was unconscious. He began to panic and immediately rushed up the stairs to deliver the news to Voldemort.

Ollivander hurried towards Harry and shook him,

"Harry, wake up."

There was no response. Ollivander felt his pulse and realized that it was almost non-existential. He also realized that Harry's entire body was freezing cold.

Voldemort swept down the stairs followed by the death eater. He made his way towards Harry and bent down beside him. Ollivander immediately crawled back. Voldemort's gaze swept the room and came to a halt over the plate that contained a piece of dried bread and watery soup. He spoke in a cold, livid tone,

"Lucius, come here."

The man stepped forward. Voldemort signalled towards the plate and spoke,

"Eat it."

Lucius hesitated and spoke,

"My lord, I…."

Voldemort had his wand pointed towards him and roared out the order,

"EAT IT!"

Lucius Malfoy picked up the plate and began to nibble at the bread distastefully. He retched. Voldemort spoke again,

"Did I not order you to keep him alive and well in my absence?"

Lucius Malfoy bowed down,

"My lord, I…..."

Voldemort raised his hand and silenced him,

"Does he look alive and well to you?"

Lucius Malfoy's gaze turned to Harry's limp form and he spoke,

"No, my lord."

Voldemort dismissed Lucius with a wave of his wand and looked down at Harry. He pointed his wand towards Harry and cast a diagnostic charm on him. He frowned as the results showed nothing that he didn't know already. What was he hiding? He was certain that Potter was hiding something.

He had seen despair in those emerald eyes. Potter had looked broken. Had his godfather's death really affected him that badly or was it something else. He would not rest until he found out.

Dumbledore paced the small dining room of Grimmauld Place. The Dursleys death and Harry's disappearance had rendered a great blow to the order and raised a lot of questions. Where was Harry? There had been no signs of a struggle at Pivet Drive. Tom had told him that Harry had been there, at the leaky cauldron, that night and he had met with the Minister of Magic. The entire situation was extremely murky and he despised it. The boy had grown more troublesome after his godfather's death. He sat down in one of the chairs and twirled his wand in his hands

Harry had been growing out of his control for a few months now. It had only grown worse in the past two months. Harry had been ignoring all his letters. He had even been ignoring the letters of his friends. He knew that he would have to find Harry and get him back under his control. The boy was his key to greatness. Harry would give him an upper hand in the ministry. He had placed a trace of his own on Harry's wand. He waved his wand over the map spread out on the table and tried to trace Harry again but it seemed as if Harry's wand had disappeared from the face of the earth. He would have to find the boy at any cost.

Voldemort stood beside the bed, Harry was laid on and silently observed him. Harry's complexion was unnaturally pale and he was unusually weak. There was a knock on the door and Voldemort spoke,

"Enter."

Narcissa Malfoy entered the room and bowed down,

"My lord, you called for me?"

Voldemort nodded silently,

"I am aware that you possess some skills in healing. I wish for you to nurse Potter back to health."

Narcissa Malfoy's lips parted in shock and she spoke,

"My lord, if you wish to kill him then why…..."

Voldemort raised his hand and spoke,

"If you do not want to do this then I shall find someone else."

Narcissa Malfoy didn't miss the threat in Voldemort's voice and spoke again,

"No, my lord. I shall do it."

Voldemort smirked and strode out of the room,

"You may begin now, Narcissa."


	5. Chapter 5

Harry woke up feeling extremely warm. He snuggled deeper into the covers to savour the warmth until he remembered everything that had happened. He was supposed to be in a cell with Ollivander. How had he gotten here? Harry sat up a bit too fast and burst out in a fit of coughing. He covered his mouth with his hands, jumped out of bed and rushed to the bathroom sink where he coughed out the blood.

Harry stared at the crimson blood blankly and wiped his mouth clean. He opened the tap and splashed some water over his face. He had to get away from Voldemort. He couldn't just die at Voldemort's hands. Harry stepped out of the washroom and found Narcissa Malfoy standing in the doorway. He looked at her and spoke,

"So, what do you want?"

Narcissa Malfoy ignored his question and spoke,

"The Dark Lord is expecting you for dinner."

Harry shook his head and laughed,

"He expects me to have dinner with him?"

Narcissa Malfoy turned her back to him and walked away. Harry couldn't help but follow her. She led him through a labyrinth of corridors until they reached a large dining hall. Narcissa Malfoy entered the hall and took her place between her husband and son. Harry stood in the doorway and just felt awkward. He was about to walk away when Voldemort's cold voice rang through the hall,

"Come and sit down, Potter. There is nowhere for you to go anyway."

Harry entered the hall and was about to sit down on the farthest chair from Voldemort when the man spoke again,

"There is a perfectly good chair vacant next to me, Potter."

Harry felt his scar twinge as a warning and he knew that he didn't want it to burn up with that agonizing pain again. He dropped into the chair next to Voldemort and stared emptily in his lap.

Voldemort sat back in his chair and observed Harry. The boy looked less pale but he was still weak. He waved his wand and food appeared in front of everyone. Harry looked at the plate that had appeared in front of him and heard his stomach grumble. He was just about to pick up his knife and fork when he remembered Ollivander and asked Voldemort,

"Are you still giving Ollivander that sorry excuse for a meal?"

Lucius Malfoy rose to his feet, pointed his wand towards Harry and spoke,

"How dare you disrespect the Dark Lord like that?"

Voldemort chucked softly and spoke,

"Sit down, Lucius. I assure you that Ollivander is having the same meal that you're having."

Harry didn't really trust Voldemort but he nodded his head. He picked up his knife and fork and began eating. He realized that he had been starving because he had a clean plate in minutes.

Voldemort observed how Harry had wolfed down the food in minutes. The boy must have been starving. He waved his wand and more food appeared on Harry's plate.

Harry ate the food on his plate with renewed vigour and finally felt satiated. It felt nice to be have a proper meal after so many months. He hadn't been eating properly ever since Sirius had passed away.

Harry wiped his face with the napkin and was about to get up when Voldemort spoke,

"We have much to discuss, Potter."

Voldemort dismissed the Malfoys. Harry sat up straighter and crossed his arms over his chest,

"If you're going to tell me that you killed the Dursleys then save your breath. I already saw you murder them."

Voldemort tilted his head and regarded Harry with amusement,

"You do not seem to be as sentimental about it as you were when your godfather passed away."

Harry slammed his fist on the table,

"You have no right to talk about my godfather. Besides you only kill the people who are weak. Why don't you kill Bellatrix?"

Voldemort rose to his feet and drew closer to Harry. He was about to grip Harry by his jaw when Harry rose to his feet as well and stepped back,

"I'm not scared of you. I'm never going to be scared of you."

Harry felt his scar burst up with the pain and he clutched his head tightly as a cry escaped his lips. He stepped back until he felt the wall against his back. Harry managed to get the words out, despite the excruciating pain his scar,

"That's all you can do. You can torture me. You can cause me agonizing pain but I'm not going to be afraid of you. I don't have anything to lose."

Voldemort grabbed Harry by his jaw. The pain vanished and Harry met Voldemort's crimson gaze,

"What are you hiding?"

Harry felt a humourless chuckle escape his lips,

"You can't find out, can you? That's why you went to the Dursleys in the first place."

Voldemort was about to strike Harry across the face when he stopped and instead caressed Harry's cheek,

"Were you really attacked by death eaters, Potter?"

Harry looked into Voldemort's eyes and tried to evaluate if he was supposed to answer that question,

"You ordered them to and they just followed your orders."

Voldemort laughed coldly and patted Harry on the cheek,

"I did not send them, Potter."

Voldemort waved his wand and Harry saw a piece of parchment appear in his hand. Harry looked at it with puzzlement. Voldemort spoke,

"According to the Ministry of Magic you clearly violated the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery and they have decided to expel you from Hogwarts."

Harry snatched the letter from Voldemort and read it. He tore it into small pieces and tossed them away,

"It doesn't matter anymore. I wasn't planning to attend Hogwarts this year, anyway."

Voldemort seemed to be amused by the reply. He stepped back from Harry, regarded him and spoke,

"What were you planning to do?"

Harry shook his head and looked down at his feet. The answer to Voldemort's question rang in his brain and he didn't know when it came to his tongue and escaped his lips,

"Dying."


	6. Chapter 6

Harry instantly covered his mouth with his hands. He shook his head and spoke,

"I didn't mean to say that."

Voldemort wore a pleased smirk,

"I know exactly what you meant to say, Potter. You cannot fool me."

He made his way to the chair again and sat down. He signalled Harry to do the same. Harry cursed himself internally. What had he done? He wouldn't let Voldemort know. He would just make something up. Harry retook his seat and stared down at his hands. He finally found the perfect lie and spoke,

"I'm tired of breathing. Sirius died and took my will to live with him. I don't want to live in a world without him."

Voldemort conjured two items in front of Harry with a wave of his wand. A knife and a vial of poison,

"Pick one and end your life."

Harry knew that he was stuck. But he wouldn't give up that easily. He didn't have much to lose anyway. Harry picked up the vial of potion. His hands trembled but he calmed himself. He assured himself that this was better than dying at Voldemort's hands or in his captivity. Harry drew a deep breath and downed the potion. He felt a chill run down his spine but apart from that nothing happened. Wasn't he supposed to die?

Suddenly, it all began to make sense. The potion hadn't been a poison. Harry opened his eyes and grabbed the knife. He held it over his wrist and attempted to slash it but nothing happened. The knife didn't even leave a scratch. Voldemort chuckled darkly and vanished the two objects,

"Are you really that desperate to die, Harry?"

Harry kept his gaze down on the table. He felt humiliated. Voldemort had successfully managed to make a fool out of him. Harry was about to rise to his feet when black restraints appeared and bound him to the chair. Harry struggled against them,

"Let me go."

Voldemort rose to his feet and laughed darkly,

"How many of your suicide attempts have gone awry?"

Harry closed his eyes and saw both of them swim in front of his vision. He finally spoke,

"Two."

Voldemort grabbed Harry by the chin and hissed out,

"Tell me about them."

Harry didn't open his eyes. He just spoke,

"I tried slashing my wrist at the park but my cousin came there with his friends and I had to hide the knife away."

Voldemort softly murmured in his ear,

"Tell me about the second attempt."

Harry hesitated. He cried out as sudden pain flashed through his scar. It vanished as soon as it had appeared and Harry spoke,

"I managed to do it the second time. I was in my room and I had managed to slash my wrist. I remember I was bleeding out, all alone in my room. My eyes must have closed for a fraction of a second and when I opened them again, I was in a hospital and a doctor was tending to my wrist and I saw…"

Harry broke off in mid-sentence. Voldemort smirked,

"What did you see, Potter?"

Harry struggled against the restraints again,

"Let me go now. I answered all your questions."

Voldemort gripped Harry's hair tightly and spoke,

"I am not done with you, Potter. Now answer the question."

Harry winced as the pain rose in his scalp. Voldemort released his hair and spoke,

"What did you see?"

Harry felt a tear slide down his eyes. He couldn't say it. Voldemort whispered softly in his ear,

"Say it, Potter."

Harry cried out as sorrow constricted his heart,

"Sirius…. I saw Sirius in the corner of the room. I thought he had saved me."

Voldemort vanished the restraints. Harry slumped back in the chair and buried his face in his hands. He hadn't wanted to remember that. He had convinced himself that it had been an illusion. Voldemort retook his seat and Harry finally spoke,

"It wasn't real. Sirius is gone and he won't come back."

Voldemort twirled his wand in his fingers thoughtfully and spoke,

"I shall not allow you to kill yourself."

Harry rose to his feet and slammed his hands on the table,

"I am not your slave. I can do whatever I want to with myself."

Voldemort rose to his feet and murmured softly,

"I shall have to do something about that."

Harry turned his back to Voldemort and was about to walk away when Voldemort gripped his wrist tightly. Harry struggled to pull his arm out of Voldemort's grasp,

"Let go of me."

Voldemort laughed humourlessly and threw Harry against the wall. Harry lost his balance and collapsed on his knees. Voldemort drew closer to him and seized him by his shirt collar. He pulled Harry to his feet and apparated.

They appeared in a bedroom that Harry recognized as the one he had woke up in a while ago. Voldemort threw Harry on the bed and spoke,

"You are not in a right state of mind, Potter."

Harry sat up straighter and stared defiantly at Voldemort,

"Why do you care? I mean you wanted to kill me then why do my suicidal tendencies bother you? I'm crazy, I admit it. Now just please let me go."

Voldemort sat down beside Harry and spoke,

"I find it fascinating. I find you fascinating, Harry Potter and I shall not be letting you go."

Harry looked away and spoke,

"Can you at least leave me alone?"

Voldemort chuckled and caressed Harry's cheek. Harry immediately pulled away. Voldemort continued to laugh softly and spoke,

"Has anyone ever told you about how exquisitely gorgeous you are?"

Harry felt something stir in the pit of his stomach. Was Voldemort praising him? Harry shook his head. Even if the man was praising him, why did it affect him? Voldemort held Harry's wrist and managed to successfully caress his cheek,

"You are blushing, Potter."

Harry pulled his wrist out of Voldemort's grip and pulled back from Voldemort's touch,

"My name is Harry."

Voldemort smirked deviously,

"Very well. You are blushing, Harry. Does that sound better?"

Harry felt his cheeks burning up. What was wrong with him?


	7. Chapter 7

Harry sat silently on the edge of the bed. Voldemort had left him blushing and now Harry just wanted to kill himself. He had been so stupid. Why had he reacted like that in front of Voldemort? He knew that Voldemort was playing with him. The man was devoid of any emotions. Buried his face in the pillow and punched it. He had to get out of this place. He had to get away from Voldemort. Harry had risen to his feet when the door opened and Narcissa Malfoy stepped in, holding a tray. She closed the door and spoke,

"Sit down, Potter."

Harry remained on his feet. Narcissa Malfoy set the tray down on the side table and Harry realized that it contained flasks and phials that held various coloured contents. She pointed her wand towards him and spoke,

"I have been authorized to use any means possible to make you well again."

Harry laughed bitterly and turned his back to her,

"You are going to fail pathetically."

Harry instantly felt himself being pulled backwards and thrown on the bed. He was about to get up when black restrains appeared and bound him to the bed. Harry struggled against them,

"Let me go."

Narcissa removed his shoes and socks with a wave of her wand and then smiled vindictively,

"I hope that you are comfortable, Potter."

Harry stared up at her venomously and didn't reply. She got to work and picked up a flask from the bedside table. After examining it closely, she uncorked it and held it to Harry's lips.

Harry kept his lips shut tightly. Narcissa forced Harry's mouth open and then tipped the flask. Harry struggled against her. He didn't want to swallow the potion but he was gradually running out of breath. Harry felt himself suffocating and then he unwillingly swallowed the potion and drew in a deep shuddering breath.

Narcissa stepped back and spoke sternly,

"I highly recommend that you drink the other potions without any resistance."

Harry was still busy in feeding oxygen to his nearly starved lungs and ignored her. She uncorked the next potion. Harry braced himself and shut his jaw tightly. Narcissa sighed and set the potion back down,

"Maybe I should let the Dark Lord deal with you."

Harry didn't want to be anywhere near the man especially after what had happened a while ago. Harry opened his mouth in resignation and Narcissa fed him the foul-tasting potion. Harry retched. Narcissa tsked and spoke,

"Do not throw it up. I shall feed it to you all over again."

Harry resisted the urge to vomit. He nearly swooned when he saw her uncorking another potion,

"I don't want to drink another. How many potions are you going to feed me? Do you feed Draco that many potions?"

She wordlessly held the potion to Harry's lips and tipped it. Harry swallowed it unwillingly and struggled against the restraints,

"Two more to go, Potter."

Harry turned his head and buried his face in the pillow,

"No more."

She tsked and uncorked a phial. She forced Harry to turn and force-fed him the potion. Harry retched again and nearly threw up. Narcissa cast a warning glare towards him but Harry felt too sick to care. He struggled against the restraints again,

"One last potion, Potter."

Harry shook his head. Narcissa held a purple coloured potion to Harry's lips and Harry recognized it immediately. He drank it and his head fell back on the pillow. Harry's eyelids drooped almost instantly and he felt relieved when he finally fell into sweet, blissful sleep.

Narcissa was about to vanish the restrains when the door opened and Voldemort stepped In. She immediately grew still and bowed. Voldemort drew closer to Harry and checked the restraints,

"It is far more convenient to keep him restrained."

Narcissa nodded her head and spoke solemnly,

"As you wish, my lord."

Voldemort took a closer look at Harry and then vanished from the room. Narcissa collapsed in an armchair and looked deplorably at Harry. She despised him and wished that he would just die. This boy had made Draco's life so difficult at school and now he had come here to bother everyone. If it were up to her, she would slip him a poison and be done with it but she couldn't. The Dark Lord would not be merciful if anything happened to the boy.

She leaned back in the chair and wondered what had happened to change the Dark Lord's mind. He had been bent on killing the boy a few days ago but ever since the boy had been brought here, the Dark Lord had been bent on making him well. She rose to her feet and looked at the clock. Draco would be back home any moment. She picked up the tray and left the room quietly.

Voldemort stood outside Pivet Drive and looked at the property distastefully. He stepped over the porch and walked into the deserted house. His gaze travelled over the padlock on the door to the cupboard under the stairs. Voldemort cracked the lock with incredible ease. He opened the door and examined the tiny space. How had Potter lived here for eleven years? He made his way up the stairs. It was if he had been here before. Well he had seen enough of those muggle's memories to know where Potter had lived and the circumstances he had lived in.

Voldemort opened the door to the room Harry had used to occupy and stepped in. The room was a mess. His gaze travelled around the room and he found what he had been looking for. He made his way to the trunk and opened it with a wave of his wand. He pulled out the books from inside of it and his hand encountered something soft. He closed his fingers around it and pulled it out. It was the invisibility cloak, one of Potter's most prized possessions. He rummaged through the trunk and finally found what he had been looking for. He pulled out the blank piece of parchment and smirked to himself. He had found what he had come for.

He vanished the cloak and the parchment and then made his way to the bed. It did not surprise him when he saw that the bed clothes were blood stained. Potter must have slashed his wrist here. He waved his wand and a kitchen knife flew into his hand. He traced his finger over the blood-stained blade and looked at it intently. There was something wrong with Potter other than this psychological state. He needed to find out what it was. He would have to coax it out of him.


	8. Chapter 8

Voldemort sat in his throne and twirled the blood-stained knife between his fingers. Was Harry really that affected by his godfather's death or was it something else. One death couldn't have compelled Harry to commit suicide. Another question rose in his head and it made him wonder. Was Dumbledore aware of Potter's suicide attempts? If Dumbledore was aware then why had he not taken any measures to save Potter?

He looked down at the stained knife and felt empathy for the boy. Dumbledore had used Potter as nothing more than a mere weapon. He had left him with those beastly muggles to be abused every year. He had no doubt that Dumbledore was aware of the mistreatment Harry received at the hands of those muggles. He looked down at the knife and imagined driving it through the heart of that fool. That would truly be a sight to behold.

He conjured the Marauder's Map and tapped his wand against it. Wormtail had only proven to be useful for one thing. He observed the map and realized that Dumbledore was pacing in his office. He wondered if Dumbledore was worried about Potter. That would not be the case. Dumbledore was most likely worried about his own reputation. Potter was Dumbledore's ace in the hole and now with Potter gone, Dumbledore had nothing left.

His gaze travelled to the footprints that had just appeared outside Dumbledore's office. Severus Snape. It was time the man to prove his loyalty. He would summon him very soon. Voldemort cleared the map with a wave of his wand and rose to his feet. Maybe he should pay Potter a visit now and see if the boy had gotten acquainted with the restraints. Was it a good idea to restrain the boy though? Yes, it was. He wouldn't allow Potter to kill himself. He was not as blind as Dumbledore.

Voldemort rose to his feet and vanished. He appeared outside Potter's room and heard the faint sound of struggling. He chuckled softly and stepped into the room,

"I see that you have acquainted yourself with the restraints. They shall not come off."

Harry continued his struggling and ignored Voldemort. Voldemort smirked vindictively and sat down in an armchair. After fifteen minutes of futile struggling, Harry finally lay still on the bed and panted. Voldemort observed Harry and finally spoke,

"Are you done, Potter?"

Harry closed his eyes and lay down on his side with his back towards Voldemort. He hated the man. Why couldn't the man just leave him alone? Didn't he have anything to do? And as if things hadn't been difficult before, now he was chained to this bed. This was not how he had planned to die. This wasn't how he had wanted to die. He had always imagined spending his last days peacefully and independently, with nothing to worry about, no future, no war, no friends and no Voldemort. But this was exactly the opposite of that. He had wanted to forget about Voldemort and now he was in his captivity.

Voldemort spoke again,

"Potter, you cannot ignore me."

Harry finally replied,

"Watch me."

Harry buried his face in his pillow and kept his eyes closed tightly. He wanted to be left alone. He just needed to be alone. Harry felt a sudden jolt and he was forced to turn and face Voldemort,

"That is better. Now I have something to show you, Potter."

Harry kept his eyes closed and spoke,

"Why can't you just leave me alone? Don't you have anything better to do? No wonder you haven't been able to capture the ministry and Hogwarts till now. You're too lazy to get anything done."

Voldemort chuckled darkly and gripped Harry's jaw in a bone shattering grip,

"Is that a challenge, Harry?"

Harry kept his eyes closed,

"Think whatever you want. Just leave me alone."

Voldemort tightened his grip on Harry's jaw and traced his lips with his finger,

"What shall I get if I fulfil the challenge, Harry?"

Harry didn't like the way Voldemort touched his lips. He didn't like Voldemort's tone. He didn't like the look in Voldemort's eyes but despite all that Harry still felt something stir in his heart. Harry wanted to struggle. He wanted to pull himself away from Voldemort. He voiced that thought,

"I wouldn't let you touch me if I wasn't restrained."

Voldemort laughed softly and spoke,

"But you do not want it to stop."

Harry closed his eyes and tried to pull himself away but the restraints kept him from moving. Voldemort was right. Voldemort was awfully right. Harry didn't like Voldemort's touch but he didn't want it to stop. This was wrong. It was extremely wrong. Harry set his jaw and spoke,

"Don't touch me and just leave me alone."

Voldemort laughed again and continued to stroke Harry's lips,

"I shall not stop because you do not want it to stop."

Harry felt irritated. He snapped his teeth and attempted to bite Voldemort's finger. Voldemort pulled his finger and spoke,

"I adore your spirit, Harry. It makes you all the more desirable."

Harry shook his head and closed his eyes,

"I don't know what you're trying to do but it's not going to work."

Voldemort donned an innocent expression and asked,

"What am I attempting to do, Harry?"

Harry was infuriated at Voldemort's fake innocence. He finally shouted out,

"This…all of this. The way you're touching me, the way you look at me and the way you talk to me. You can't just do whatever you want to me. I might have lost everything but I haven't lost my dignity."

Voldemort chuckled softly,

"Dignity…...Is that why you set out to kill yourself….to preserve your self-proclaimed dignity? You do not know the meaning of dignity because if you knew then you would not have preferred to kill yourself. You would have decided to kill those who have wronged you."

Harry stared bitterly at Voldemort and spoke,

"I do want to kill one person."

Voldemort already knew the answer to that and he voiced it,

"Bellatrix."

Harry nodded his head and looked away,

"I will kill her, no matter what."

Voldemort grabbed Harry's jaw again and caressed his cheek with his thumb,

"As I mentioned before, your spirit makes you even more desirable. If I fulfil your challenge then I shall have you as my prize."

Harry laughed humourlessly,

"I don't care what you do. I'm not up for grabs."

Voldemort rose to his feet and smirked softly,

"We shall see about that."


	9. Chapter 9

It had been three days…...three days filled with nasty tasting potions, tasteless food and forced sleep and these damned restraints. Harry lay awake in bed and stared blankly at the ceiling. He hadn't wanted any of this. He hadn't needed any of this in his already shortened life. Harry closed his eyes and struggled fruitlessly against the restraints. He had considered telling Voldemort countless times in the past three days, anything to get these restraints off but every time he had willed himself not to. He would not tell Voldemort anything. He would not prove himself weak. He was not weak.

Harry was gripped by an intense fit of coughing. Harry struggled hard against the restraints. He was going to vomit out blood. He knew that it was inevitable. No, Voldemort would find out if he vomited here. He wouldn't let it happen. He wouldn't let Voldemort know. Harry willed the restraints to vanish. He willed it with all his magic. Suddenly Harry felt them vanish and he jumped out of bed and rushed to the bathroom where he vomited out copious amounts of blood.

Harry slipped down to the floor, his body trembled uncontrollably. Harry held himself tightly and drew in deep breaths. It was getting worse. He had to get out of this place. He had to get away from Voldemort. He refused to die in front of Voldemort. Harry contained himself. This wasn't the time and place to fall apart. Harry rose to his feet unsteadily. He splashed water over his face and looked at his reflection in the mirror. This was the perfect time to get away. He needed to escape now while everyone believed that he was restrained to that bed.

Harry stepped out of the room and looked around the room. He located his shoes and socks under the bed. He pulled them on as fast as he could and slipped out of the room. His brain was working at a thousand miles an hour. He heard approaching footsteps and slipped into the closest door, which turned out to be a broom closet. Harry heard intently to the sound of clicking heels and recognized the gait as Narcissa's. She was going to his room. She was going to discover his absence and report it to Voldemort.

Harry cursed the timing and ducked out of the broom closet and looked for a way out. He sneaked through corridors until he reached a flight of stairs. Harry moved down and found himself in the foyer. He felt joy and adrenaline coursing through his veins. He was finally going to get out. Harry ran to the oak door and tried to open it but it wouldn't budge. Harry cursed and tried harder. He had to get out. Harry was aware of the fact that his magic would not help him now. He had worn it out when he vanished the restraints. Harry heard rushing footsteps and he ran to the nearest door. He realized that it led down to the dungeons.

Harry ran down the steps and found himself in the cold dark dungeon. Was this where he had been kept? No, this was different. Harry continued to run and found a potions lab. Something was better than nothing. Harry entered it and found another door leading to a supplies room. Harry ran in and closed the door, hoping that no one would come looking for him here. He heard footsteps thundering overhead and shouts and cries permeating the air. Voldemort had probably employed all his death eaters to search for him. Harry slipped back behind the shelves of ingredients and sat down on the floor. There was nothing left but to wait it out now.

Harry sat against the wall and continued to listen intently to the distant sounds. He stared emptily at the jars full of colourful contents and contemplated on his situation. Was he being a coward? No, this was about surviving. He would not let Voldemort catch him again. Harry heard rushing footsteps just outside and he felt his heart beating out of his chest. He backed further behind the shelves and hoped that no one would look for him here. The footsteps drew nearer. Harry looked around but there was nowhere he could go now.

The door opened and Harry laid down on the ground, flat on his belly. A gruff voice spoke,

"What's the point of this? He's probably long gone."

Another voice spoke from the lab,

"Yeah, you're right. I'm tired of running around. This is the Dark Lord's problem."

The footsteps began backing away and Harry breathed out sigh of relief. He raised himself into a sitting position and wondered how long he would have to stay here. How long could be possibly stay here? Harry was just in the middle of these thoughts when his scar came alive with pain and burned excruciatingly. Harry immediately bit down on his knuckle to stop himself from screaming. The pain was too intense, too all consuming. Harry felt his teeth break the skin and he felt the metallic taste of blood fill his mouth. He wouldn't scream. He would not scream. This was Voldemort's way of tracking him down.

Harry closed his eyes as the pain grew increasingly worse. Voldemort's magically amplified voice filled the manor,

"I am aware that you are still present within these walls, Potter. You cannot hide forever. Come out willingly and I shall be merciful. If you do not comply then I shall seek you out personally and you shall regret ever trying to escape."

The voice died down but the pain remained. Harry laid down on the cold stone floor and curled up tightly so that his face was buried in his chest. He had to endure. He just had to get through this. The pain grew dull and Harry relaxed. He opened his eyes and looked down at his hand which was bleeding profusely. He tore off a piece of cloth from his sleeve and wrapped it tightly around his hand to stop the blood flow.

After recovering completely from the after effects of the pain, Harry looked around. Voldemort's threats were not empty. That pain would return a thousand times worse and he had to be prepared for it.

Harry looked around and mentally slapped himself. He was in a potions lab for crying out loud. There had to be something here to relieve or at least numb the pain. Harry crawled out from behind the shelves and looked through the closets full of phials and flasks.

He felt relieved when he realized that the potions were categorized by purpose. Harry went over the sleep section and looked for the pain section. He found it with ease and looked through the various bottles for a pain-relieving draught. He couldn't believe his luck when he found a flask at the very back of the shelf. He pocketed it carefully and then looked for a healing salve for his hand. Harry thanked whoever had arranged the potions so well upon finding the healing salve. He was just returning to the supplies room when something caught his eye and made him stop in his steps.


	10. Chapter 10

Harry studied the stack of potions books and pulled one from the top. He had a feeling that he would be here for a while. He might as well learn something while he waited. Not that he would be needing that knowledge anymore but doing something was better than sitting idly. Harry made his way back to the supplies room and sat down in his well concealed corner.

Harry applied the healing salve to his hand and wrapped it with the piece of cloth again. He leaned back against the wall and opened the book. Harry wondered about his OWLs result. Well, he would have dropped potions even if he had planned to return to Hogwarts. He couldn't have put up with Snape for two more years. Harry looked down at the open potions book in his lap and closed it.

He hated his situation. Trapped here with no way out, he was worse than a rat. No, he wasn't. This was just momentary. He would get out of here. At least he wasn't in those wretched restraints anymore. Harry decided that he was thinking too much and opened the book again to distract himself.

He had just read through the first few pages when he realized how oddly quiet it had become. There were no more thundering footsteps overhead and no more noise. Had Voldemort called off the search? Was this the silence before the storm? Harry just hoped that Voldemort himself wouldn't search for him because Voldemort would leave no corner unchecked. Harry was just lost in those thoughts when he heard approaching footsteps.

He felt his heart beating out of control as they grew nearer. Harry prayed that they were not directed towards the potions lab. His hopes came crashing down when he realized that they were directed his way.

Harry pushed the book over the shelf and laid down on his belly to hide. The footsteps drew nearer and Harry saw a pair of black shoes from under the shelves. They were coming towards the supply room. He was going to get caught. His heart was lodged in his throat. Afraid that a single sound might sell him out. Harry's first instinct was to knock out whoever it was so that they wouldn't run to Voldemort upon finding him but he struck down that idea. Whoever it was, they hadn't spotted him yet. Maybe they wouldn't spot him at all.

Harry heard the person curse and recognized the voice. It was Draco. Harry had never hated anyone more than he hated Draco…well maybe he hated Snape more but the point was that he hated Draco a lot. He had no doubt that the opportunistic bastard would have no qualms about selling him to the Dark Lord. Harry was too absorbed in his thoughts to notice that the footsteps were retreating. He breathed out a sigh of relief when they disappeared completely

Voldemort sat back in this throne and leisurely sipped from the wine glass, held between his slender fingers. He observed the figure kneeling before him with distaste. The Malfoy scion was as useless as his parents. He finally inquired,

"Are you absolutely certain that you do not have any pain-relieving potions in stock?"

The Malfoy trembled pathetically and spoke,

"Yes, my lord. I have checked."

Voldemort dismissed him with a wave of his hand,

"I am hugely disappointed in you, Draco. Get out of my sight before I curse you."

Draco scurried out of the room. Voldemort leaned back in his seat and petted Nagini's head,

" _I am afraid that you must endure the pain. I am certain that you shall think twice before devouring a human whole."_

He looked down at the contents of his wine glass and wondered where Harry was hiding. No matter, they boy was still confined in these walls and he would not be able to get out. He chuckled darkly and took another sip of his wine. There was nowhere that Harry could run to now. There was a knock on the door and he spoke,

"Enter."

Rodolphus and Rabastan entered the hall and bowed. Rodolphus spoke,

"Master, we have searched every corner of the Manor. Regrettably, there is no sign of the boy."

Voldemort signalled them to rise and gestured Rabastan to speak,

"Rodolphus is correct, my lord. Maybe the boy has managed to leave the Manor."

Voldemort tossed the glass towards them and it crashed in front of them, shattering into a thousand tiny pieces. The brothers winced and stepped back,

"Are you implying that I have made a mistake, Rabastan? That, maybe, I have underestimated the boy's potential. Do you believe that the boy has managed to hoodwink me again?"

Rabastan crashed on his knees and spoke,

"No, my lord. Never. Surely you are the greatest of all."

Voldemort hummed in approval and spoke,

"The boy is within these walls. There is no doubt about that. Let him play his games. Let him enjoy his illusion of freedom. He is destined to lose and he shall return in my captivity. Be gone now."

The brothers left the hall at an impossible pace. Voldemort looked at Nagini and spoke in parseltongue,

" _You shall find him when I order you to. For now, I wish to lure him into a false sense of security._ "

Voldemort chuckled again. He had not felt this much exhilaration in a long time.

Harry was tired of reading. How many hours had it been? He was certain that Voldemort had abandoned his search for him? Maybe they were searching outside the manor now. He wished that it was true. He really just wanted to get out of this place now. But he couldn't let his restlessness destroy everything. He was walking on very thin ice here and one wrong move would cost him everything. Well everything was mainly his freedom. He really didn't have much to lose. Harry felt the pain-relieving potion in his pocket and felt reassured. At least he was prepared if Voldemort decided to assault him through his scar again.


	11. Chapter 11

Harry downed the nutrition potion in one and grimaced at the taste. It had been two days and he had been surviving on nutrition potions. Harry rose to his feet quietly and stealthily made his way out of the potions lab. He made his way up the stairs as silently as possible and peered through the crack in the door at the oak door. He felt his hopes come crashing down once again as he saw two death eaters standing guard on it. He had checked the door thrice before and had been disappointed every time to see death eaters standing guard over it.

Harry made his way back down to the potions lab and entered the supplies room. He was agitated and frustrated. Harry kicked the wall in frustration. He had to get out of here. There had to be another way out. But how could he explore this manor without getting caught? There was no way he wouldn't be spotted. He missed his invisibility cloak dearly and vowed to retrieve it as soon as he got out of this place.

He slumped back against the wall and slid to the floor. Why couldn't Voldemort just forget about him? Why wouldn't the man just give up? Harry closed his eyes and curled up in his corner. He hadn't gotten a wink of sleep for the past two days and it was beginning to take its toll on him. Surrender was beginning to sound preferable.

Voldemort adjourned the meeting. The death eaters had risen to depart when Voldemort spoke,

"I have not dismissed you yet."

The death eaters reclaimed their seats. Voldemort smirked victoriously. He would have the ministry under his control by the end of this week. It was time to get Harry back. He had given the boy enough time to surrender but the boy had proved to be far more obstinate than he had imagined. He turned to Nagini and hissed to her in parseltongue,

" _Bring him to me, now."_

Nagini hissed back and slithered away immediately,

" _Yesss master."_

Harry had nearly dozed off when he felt the breath knocked out of his body. He attempted to struggle and opened his eyes to realize Nagini's body coiled around him. He held back the scream that threatened to escape his lips. No, he was not a coward. Harry struggled harder than ever. He screamed when he felt Nagini's fangs sink into his shoulder and felt her coils tighten around his body.

Voldemort chuckled darkly as Harry's distant scream reached him. Music to his ears. The death eaters seemed to have realized what had happened and jeered across the table. The door burst open and Nagini slithered across the floor with a very haggard looking Harry, struggling weakly within her coils. She uncoiled herself from around Harry after depositing him at Voldemort's feet.

Harry clutched his shoulder as soon as Nagini released him. He realized that he was bleeding profusely and Nagini's venom was probably coursing through his veins now. He was aware of his surroundings and despite the agonizing pain. he raised himself into a kneeling position. He would not prove himself weak. He was not weak.

Voldemort regarded Harry. The wound on Harry's shoulder did not go unnoticed by him. He admired Harry's defiance as he raised himself into a kneeling position. The death eaters jeered and catcalled. Voldemort silenced them with one gaze and turned to Harry,

"Did you honestly believe that you could escape?"

Harry didn't reply and instead continued to stare down at the floor. His one hand clutched his bleeding shoulder tightly and his other was balled into a fist. Voldemort had played with like a predator with his prey. The bastard had known that Nagini would be able to track him down in a matter of minutes. Harry felt incredibly stupid. How could he have forgotten Nagini? He bit his tongue when Voldemort grabbed his shoulder and squeezed it. He would not scream. He would absolutely not scream.

Voldemort smirked as he squeezed Harry's battered shoulder. The warm blood coated his fingers almost instantly. He wanted to see Harry break but Harry's spirit was commendable. He wondered where Harry got this determination from? He released Harry's shoulder when he grew certain that he would not scream and spoke,

"Harry, your spirit is commendable but it shall not win you, your freedom."

Harry had his eyes closed tightly and Voldemort noticed how Harry's body trembled from the strain. His gaze took in the pool of blood that surrounded Harry and felt concerned. Killing Harry was not his aim anymore but leaving him unpunished would give rise to questions in the mind of his death eaters. After all, the only reason he had made them stay was to witness Harry's couldn't tear his gaze from the pool of blood surrounding Harry. The boy was losing too much blood, too fast.

To hell with the death eaters. He dismissed them with a wave of his hand and locked the door when they had departed. Immediately he conjured the antidote to Nagini's venom and held it to Harry's lips. Harry resisted and Voldemort spoke,

"You have to drink this, foolish boy."

Harry pushed away the flask and managed to speak out,

"Just... Just let me bleed to death."

Voldemort shook his head in exasperation, forced Harry's mouth open and emptied the contents of the flask down his throat. He then vanished Harry's shirt and healed his shoulder. Harry attempted to struggle through it all but the blood loss had weakened him and Harry couldn't move a muscle anymore. Voldemort couldn't fathom what kept Harry on his knees.

He vanished the blood, bandaged Harry's shoulder and forced a blood replenishing potion down his throat. Harry was still semi-conscious and refused to fall unconscious. Voldemort knew that Harry required rest. He would have a conversation with him when he was more coherent and less obstinate.

Voldemort pointed his wand towards Harry and put him to sleep. He caught him before he fell back and held him upright. Gently, he rested Harry's head in his lap and moved his blood soaked fingers through Harry's hair. Harry had grown weaker over the past two days. He had fully intended to punish the boy for attempting to escape but seeing Harry's condition had made him stop. There was something mysterious about the boy. Harry's determination and resolve had grown stronger and he needed to know where they were rooted. Something had changed within the boy and he needed to know what it was.


	12. Chapter 12

Harry opened his eyes and looked around to realize that he was in a different room. He felt the familiar sensation of restraints around his wrists and ankles and cursed internally. This was getting tiring. Why couldn't Voldemort just kill him? Harry buried his face in the pillow and began thinking of a way to get out of this situation. Voldemort's voice brought him out of his musings,

"Harry, how are you feeling?"

Harry made no move to acknowledge Voldemort. He hated the man. Voldemort spoke again,

"I can force you to turn, Harry."

Harry kept his face buried in the pillow and spoke,

"But you can't make me talk."

Harry felt Voldemort sit down beside him on the bed. He had to think of something. He had to get out of these restraints. Finally, he spoke,

"I'll talk if you remove these restraints."

Harry felt Voldemort's fingers card through his hair. The man would never agree but it had been worth a shot. Suddenly Harry felt the restraints uncoil from his wrists and ankles. He pulled his face out of the pillow and sat up straight. He met Voldemort's gaze and spoke,

"Why didn't you torture me for attempting to escape?"

Voldemort chuckled darkly and spoke,

"Did you really think of that as an escape attempt? You did not even manage to leave the confines of this manor."

Harry looked down at his lap. Voldemort was provoking him. He was trying to get under his skin but Harry would not let that happen. Harry smiled and spoke,

"That was just a warm up. If you believe that I'm going to just sit here then you're mistaken."

Voldemort gripped Harry's chin tightly and spoke,

"Run then, Harry. Run as far as you can. Run for as long as you can. But I shall find you, because you are a fire and I am the rain."

Harry grinned,

"Were you always this poetic?"

Voldemort tightened his grip on Harry's chin. He admired Harry's courage and adored his defiance,

"You are free to go, Harry."

Harry's smirk faltered and shock replaced it. Voldemort smirked victoriously. Harry finally spoke through numb lips,

"Don't play with me."

Voldemort released Harry's chin and spoke gently,

"I am not playing with you. You may leave now. But there is one condition."

Harry burst out in a fit of laughter,

"I knew it. Well tell me. What's the condition?"

Voldemort wore a truly evil smirk on his face,

"Tell me, where will you go? You cannot go to Hogwarts because you have expelled. You cannot go back to your relatives because they are dead. You do not wish to be anywhere near the order because that night, when you were attacked by my death eaters, you would have run to them instead of running off to the Leaky Cauldron for refuge. I am certain that you shall not be returning to Grimmauld Place because the order is still employing it as their headquarters. You have nowhere to go, Harry."

Harry sat up straighter,

"It shouldn't matter to you. I can go anywhere I want."

Voldemort tsked,

"That is the condition for your freedom, Harry. Name one place where you can take refuge and I shall let you go."

Harry tried to think of a place, any place but none came to mind. When Harry didn't reply for a long time, then Voldemort finally spoke,

"Harry, I stand corrected. There is no place that shall welcome you. There is no one that shall offer you haven."

Harry looked up at Voldemort and met his gaze,

"Think whatever you want. It's not that anyone will not welcome me. I haven't run out of friends. I haven't run out of people that care about me. I just don't want to see them hurt."

Voldemort looked curiously at Harry,

"You do not wish to see them hurt? Why did you suddenly feel the need to distance yourself from your friends?"

Harry shook his head,

"That is none of your concern."

Voldemort chortled darkly,

"I shall unravel all your secrets, Harry."

Harry snickered,

"You can try."

Harry felt pleased to see that Voldemort's irritation had grown. He felt the uncomfortable urge to cough and tried to restrain himself. Not in front of Voldemort. He would not cough in front of Voldemort. But he couldn't restrain it. It grew unbearable and Harry coughed. He immediately covered his face with his hand.

Voldemort noticed the way Harry coughed and spoke,

"It seems that Narcissa's potions have not improved your health."

Harry coughed again and couldn't reply. Pain, unbidden and excruciating rose in his chest and he gripped the bed covers tightly. Willing himself to act normal in front of Voldemort. Why couldn't the man just leave already? Why couldn't he just leave him alone? Harry covered his mouth with his hand again as he coughed.

Voldemort had seen the pain reflected on Harry's face. He had seen the way Harry had gripped the bed covers. Something was awfully wrong and Harry was doing his best to conceal it. He reached out and rested his hand on Harry's cheek. He realized that Harry was burning up.

Harry felt Voldemort's hand on his cheek and instantly pulled back.

Voldemort finally spoke,

"Harry, you are running a fever."

Harry rested his head against the headboard and lied,

"No, it's because I just woke up."

Voldemort took Harry's hand and felt it,

"Then why are your hands so cold?"

Harry wrenched away his hand and spoke,

"Mind your own business, please."

Voldemort looked up at Harry's face and realized that Harry's cheeks were flush. He was certain that Harry was definitely running a fever. He rose to his feet and spoke,

"Since you have failed to fulfil my condition, I shall not be letting you go. Besides, you are not in a condition to even leave this bed."

Harry looked up at Voldemort and spoke through gritted teeth,

"There is nothing wrong with me."

Voldemort turned his back to Harry and spoke,

"You cannot lie to me."


	13. Chapter 13

Harry felt like his body was on fire. He hated to admit it but Voldemort had been right about the fever. His chest was aching. Harry clutched the covers close to himself as he shivered involuntarily. Voldemort had left hours ago. At that time, Harry hadn't particularly felt feverish but the symptoms had escalated over time and now Harry was feeling the fever in all its intensity.

His throat was parched. He needed water. Harry knew that the jug was just on the side table but he couldn't muster up the strength to get up and pour the water. He didn't even have the strength to open his eyes or move his hands. He had to get through this. Voldemort would get extreme pleasure from seeing him in this state.

Harry kept drifting in and out of consciousness. He knew that his condition was getting worse than better. He turned his head and saw the jug full of water. He needed water extremely badly. Harry tried to get up but couldn't. His entire body was aching now.

Voldemort sat back in his throne and opened the evening Daily Prophet. A front-page picture of Harry greeted him and he read the headline,

"Harry Potter Misses Trial."

Voldemort smirked. He had almost forgotten that it had been Harry's trial today. No matter, the trial had been rescheduled for tomorrow and he would make Harry's presence there absolutely certain. He rose to his feet and decided that Harry ought to know about it and made his way to Harry's room.

He opened the door and found Harry seemingly asleep. He sat down beside him and spoke,

"Harry, sleep time's over."

But Harry didn't respond. He touched Harry's cheek and realized that Harry's fever had grown worse. He shook Harry and observed that Harry was barely breathing,

"Wake up, Harry."

A weak moan escaped Harry's lips. Voldemort poured some water in the glass and raised Harry in a sitting position. He was concerned about how limp and lifeless Harry's body felt. He held the glass to Harry's lips and Harry drank readily. The glass was empty in seconds. Voldemort refilled it with his wand and after Harry had finished that as well, he set the glass down on the side table.

Harry coughed and felt his senses returning. He opened his eyes a fraction and saw Voldemort holding him. Harry closed his eyes again and sighed out in defeat. Why was the exact opposite of everything that he wanted happening? He wanted to speak but he was still too weak for that. Voldemort finally spoke,

"Harry, you are sick and you require care."

Harry almost laughed sarcastically. Voldemort was going to take care of him. What was the world coming to? Voldemort summoned Narcissa and when she arrived. He left Harry in her care,

"I want him better till tomorrow. Is that understood?"

And with that Voldemort vanished from the room. Narcissa Malfoy glared venomously at Harry and conjured the potions. Harry kept his eyes closed. The momentary strength that he had gained from the water was fading fast. He was falling back into unconsciousness. He didn't feel what Narcissa fed him because he had completely passed out till then.

Voldemort paced his office restlessly. He couldn't understand what was going on with Harry. He had to find out somehow. One thing was for certain that Harry would never willingly expose his secret. Well how could he get the secret out of him without physically harming him? The answer was very simple and he smirked at the simplicity. Veritaserum. But he would have to give it to Harry with discretion. Because the boy would no doubt resist if he knew what he had been fed.

Harry woke up hours later, feeling stronger and better. He sat up straighter and got out of bed. He hated himself for his moment of weakness in front of Voldemort. He felt an extremely bitter taste in his mouth. He poured himself a glass of water and drank it in one. He looked around the room and made his way to the window. The sun had just risen. Harry estimated that it was about six in the morning. Harry opened up the wardrobe and pulled out a pair of jeans and a checkered shirt. Maybe a shower would do him good.

After a long, relaxing shower, Harry stepped out of the bathroom dressed in fresh clothes. He wore his shoes and socks and stepped out of the room. Harry felt normal. Or as normal as he could possibly feel. Narcissa had definitely done her job well this time. He looked at his reflection in the mirror and observed that his cheeks were ruddy and his eyes had regained some of their spark. He remembered what Voldemort had said yesterday. The man had said that he would take care of him. Harry snorted. No amount of care could ever stop his impending death. Come to think of it, he would love to see Voldemort fail.

The door opened and Harry turned around to see Narcissa Malfoy standing in the doorway,

"The Dark Lord wants to see you."

Harry moved his fingers through his wet hair and spoke,

"But I don't want to see him."

Narcissa spoke irately,

"Fine, brat. I shall convey your message to him."

She stomped away and Harry smirked in satisfaction. He walked back to the window and opened it to let in the cool morning breeze. Maybe he should go out for a walk. He wasn't restrained and he was pretty sure that the door wasn't locked. He had just finalized his decision when he felt Voldemort's presence in the room,

"You are already dressed. Excellent."

Harry didn't respond to that. The man was insufferable. Instantly Harry felt Voldemort's arms wrap around his waist and he tried to pry them away,

"Don't touch me."

Harry felt Voldemort warm breath on his neck and heard him inhale his scent. Harry pulled away immediately and stepped back from Voldemort,

"Did you just breathe in my scent? You're being beyond creepy."

Voldemort chuckled darkly,

"You shall grow accustomed to it."

Harry shook his head,

"Nope, I'm not going to stay here long enough for me to grow accustomed to that."

Voldemort twirled his wand between his fingers thoughtfully and spoke,

"We shall see about that. But for today, you shall be attending your hearing at the ministry."

Harry blurted out,

"What?"

Voldemort smirked viciously at Harry's shock.


	14. Chapter 14

Harry got over the initial shock and then spoke,

"No. I'm not going."

Voldemort stepped closer to Harry and Harry stood his ground,

"I'm not going anywhere."

Voldemort chuckled darkly and pulled out a wand from inside his robes. Harry's gaze widened as he looked at it. He tried to snatch it from Voldemort's hands but Voldemort vanished it,

"Give that back. It's mine."

Voldemort laughed louder,

"Attend the hearing and you shall have it back."

Harry weighed the options in his head. He wanted his wand back, but going to the ministry meant facing Dumbledore and everyone else. And he had no intentions of every seeing them. Harry shook his head and then spoke,

"You can keep the wand. I won't go to the ministry at any cost."

Harry turned his back to Voldemort and crossed his arms over his chest. Voldemort spoke,

"At any cost? Are you sure about that, Harry?"

Harry turned around and looked in puzzlement at Voldemort. He grew uncertain as he saw the devious look on Voldemort's face,

"What are you on about?"

Voldemort conjured the Invisibility Cloak and the Marauders Map. He displayed them to Harry and spoke,

"Not even for your most prized possessions?"

Harry felt enraged. How dare Voldemort go through his private things? Who gave him the right to steal his most prized possessions? He launched himself at Voldemort and roared out,

"You Bastard, how dare you?"

Voldemort effortlessly dodged his attack and pushed Harry on the bed. Before, Harry could get up, Voldemort came over him and straddled him. Harry struggled and let out a throaty growl,

"Let go of me."

Voldemort pinned Harry's wrists over his head and spoke,

"You are going to do exactly what I want you to do if you ever wish to have them back."

Voldemort's face was inches away from Harry's. When Harry felt his rage subside, he began to realize hoe physically close he was to Voldemort, turned his head and spoke,

"Get up. You're crushing me."

Voldemort chuckled lightly,

"Only if you vow to play good."

Harry breathed out in frustration. This was just terrible. Could he really afford to leave everything he cherished dearly with Voldemort? Why? These were his things. He shouldn't have to fulfil any conditions to get them. He wouldn't need these things in his future but he would never leave them with Voldemort. He finally asked,

"What am I supposed to do at the ministry?"

Voldemort spoke,

"Defend yourself."

Harry laughed bitterly,

"Defend myself so I can go back to Hogwarts? I don't want to. I don't want to go back to Hogwarts. I don't ever want to see that old man again."

Voldemort expression grew amused,

"Really, Harry? Do you despise Dumbledore?"

Harry closed his eyes,

"That is none of your concern. Can you please get up? I'm pretty sure we can talk without being so close."

Voldemort tsked,

"Not until you vow to attend the hearing."

Harry met Voldemort's gaze and spoke through gritted teeth,

"Why is my hearing so important to you? What can you hope to achieve by sending me to the ministry?"

Voldemort caressed Harry's cheek softly and Harry instantly recoiled,

"You shall have to attend the hearing to find that out."

Harry just wanted to get the man off himself. He was getting uncomfortable and Harry spoke,

"Fine, I'll go. Get off me now."

Voldemort released his wrists and rose to his feet gracefully,

"I believe that you should eat something before you have to leave for your hearing."

Harry sat up straight and contemplated what he had done. Why had he even agreed to this? Well now that he thought about it. He had nothing to lose. He just had to keep his head down and get through this. He was sure that Dumbledore would be there. Maybe he could escape from the ministry. But then he would never get his cloak, wand and map back. Harry didn't want to think about how lethal those things would be in Voldemort's hand.

Voldemort observed Harry's thoughtful expression and spoke,

"Get up, Harry."

Harry shook his head,

"I'm not hungry. Just leave me alone for a while."

Voldemort was about to step closer to him when Harry raised his hand,

"Stop right there. Just stop. I am not your slave and you can't order me around. Just tell me when the hearing is and who I'm going to be travelling with."

Voldemort felt irritated by Harry's lack of respect but pressuring the boy would not yield any results. He finally spoke,

"You shall be leaving with Narcissa in an hour."

Harry looked at the clock and spoke,

"Fine. I'll be down in an hour."

If it was any ordinary person, they would have been murdered by now but Voldemort was aware that there was something deeper behind Harry's recklessness and he was very close to discovering it. He was about to leave the room when Harry spoke,

"I want my wand, my cloak and my parchment today."

Voldemort only smirked and vanished. Harry fell back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. He talked to himself,

"I can't wait to join you, Sirius. This world is growing rotten by the day."

He jumped to his feet and paced around. He didn't know what to do? He couldn't even attempt to escape now that he knew that Voldemort had his cloak and the Marauders' map. Harry just hoped that Voldemort hadn't uncovered its secret. But something told him that Voldemort knew it's true worth. That's why he had taken it from his trunk. He remembered how close he had been to Voldemort a few minutes ago and felt his cheeks heat up. He thanked the heavens that he hadn't blushed in front of Voldemort this time.

He coughed and clutched his chest as it ached. He poured water in a glass and downed it in one. He just hoped that he didn't show these signs during the hearing. There was a knock on the door and Harry looked up at the clock. There were still ten minutes left.

He opened the door and a house elf stood there with a tray laden with breakfast. Although Harry had no appetite, he pitied the elf and took the tray for him. The elf vanished and Harry closed the door. He set the tray down on the side table and ate. After breakfast, he combed his messed-up hair.

Ten minutes later, Harry stepped out of the room and made his way to the living room. He felt relieved when he realized that Voldemort wasn't there and only Narcissa Malfoy stood in front of the fireplace. If looks could kill, Harry would be dead by now. Narcissa Malfoy was glaring at Harry murderously. Harry smirked. Her husband had deserved what had happened to him,

"After you, Potter."


	15. Chapter 15

Harry stepped out of the fireplace and found himself at one end of a very long and splendid hall with a highly polished, dark wood floor. The peacock-blue ceiling was inlaid with gleaming golden symbols that were continually moving and changing like some enormous heavenly notice board. The walls on each side were panelled in shiny dark wood. He had been here last year but it felt like a lifetime ago. So much had changed. He had lost so much. Halfway down the hall, Harry saw the Fountain of Magical Brethren.

He felt Narcissa appear beside him and they began moving. They joined the throng, wending their way between the Ministry workers, some of whom were carrying tottering piles of parchment, others battered briefcases, still others reading the Daily Prophet as they walked. Harry felt the gaze of several people following. He heard people whispering his name and gathering confirmation from their nearby fellows whether it was really Harry Potter or not.

Harry felt sick. This was all Voldemort's fault. They reached the security desk. A badly shaven wizard in peacock-blue robes looked up as they approached. Harry remembered him from last time and recalled that his name was Eric. Narcissa pinned him with a menacing glare and they passed through the golden gates.

They made their way to the elevators and waited for it arrive. With a great jangling and clattering a lift descended in front of them; the golden grille slid back and Harry and Narcissa moved inside it with the rest of the crowd. Harry found himself jammed against the back wall of the lift. Several witches and wizards were looking at him curiously. He stared at his feet to avoid catching anyone's eye. He just wanted to shout at them. Why couldn't people just mind their own business?

The grilles slid shut with a crash and the lift ascended slowly, chains rattling all the while. Harry felt grateful as the witches and wizards exited at various levels. But he also felt his heart sinking as he began to realize where the hearing was. He felt numb with grief when the cool female voice announced,

"Department of Mysteries."

Harry couldn't move. He didn't want to move. He couldn't bear to be here again. Narcissa grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the lift,

"Get a hold of yourself, Potter."

They sped up that wretched corridor. Harry's heart was beating erratically. He saw the plain black door, that he knew all too well. The door that had haunted his nightmares for a year and then eventually turned his life into a nightmare. Harry wanted to go through it. Maybe he would hear Sirius's voice among the whispers that originated from the veil. Maybe he could pass through the veil and meet Sirius. Narcissa Malfoy pulled Harry roughly towards the steps and away from the door

Harry realized that he had been crying. He wiped away the tears immediately. They reached the bottom of the steps and ran along yet another corridor that Harry recognized. The corridor bore a great resemblance to that which led to Snape's dungeon at Hogwarts, with rough stone walls and torches in brackets. The doors they passed here were heavy wooden ones with iron bolts and keyholes. They came to a halt outside a grimy dark door with an immense iron lock.

Courtroom ten, Harry recalled. The ministry was really bent on getting revenge. Harry stepped through the door. There was no point in delaying the inevitable. Harry looked around the familiar dungeon. The walls were made of dark stone, dimly lit by torches. He wasn't surprised to find that the benches that had been empty at his last hearing, were filled with witches and wizards among which Harry was easily able to spot Dumbledore along with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Remus, Ron, Hermione and Ginny. Harry looked away from them and looked up at the shadowy figures seated on the highest benches. Whispers and murmurs echoed through the courtroom as Harry silently made his way to the chair in the centre of the room. The chains clinked threateningly but did not bind him. Harry remembered how nervous he had been, the last time he had been seated here. But today he had nothing to be afraid of. These people couldn't take away anything from him. The whispers and murmurs grew louder. Harry had had enough of this and he spoke loudly,

"If you're done chattering, can we get this over with?"

The chatter died down and an ominous silence filled the courtroom. Harry looked up at the people seated at the bench above. In the very middle of the front row sat Rufus Scrimgeour, the Minister of Magic. Harry felt anger bubbling through his veins when he saw Umbridge seated beside the Minister. The minister's expression grew sterner at Harry's remark and he spoke,

"Disciplinary hearing of the twenty second of July, into offenses committed under the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery and the International Statute of Secrecy by Harry James Potter, resident at number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. The Interrogators: Rufus Scrimgeour, Minister of Magic; Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Dolores…"

Harry interrupted him and spoke out,

"I am not a resident of Privet Drive anymore."

The minister looked indignant at being interrupted and was about to say something when Harry cut him off again,

"I really think that you should get rid of the toad sitting beside you."

Harry realized that he was enjoying this way too much. It was nice to get his feelings out. Besides what's the worst that they could do to him now. He looked up and realized that Umbridge was on her feet and she screeched,

"HOW DARE YOU?"

Harry chuckled and leaned back in his seat,

"You're not the only person sitting beside the Minister. It's not my fault that you thought that I referred to you as a toad."

She was about to shriek again when the Minister spoke,

"Enough. Mr. Potter, I shall hold you in contempt of court if you utter another disrespectful word. I don't have to remind you that your circumstances are dreadful enough already."

Harry rose to his feet,

"Yes, you don't have to remind me, Minister. But the thing is, I don't care. So, do your worst."

Harry sat back down in the chair. Harry felt pleased to realize that everyone looked flabbergasted. The whispering had begun anew. The minister spoke and everyone went silent,

"Do you plan on defending yourself, Mr. Potter?"

Harry shook his head,

"I'm here to hear my conviction."

Cries and shouts originated from the benches on either side and Dumbledore rose to his feet. He spoke,

"I shall act as the witness for the defence."

Harry nearly groaned out in exasperation and then spoke,

"I don't mean any offense, Professor. But I don't need a witness."

The Minister seemed pleased with that and spoke,

"The accused has denied your services, Albus. You may retake your seat."

Dumbledore sat back down and the Minister addressed Harry again,

"Are you aware of the charges against you?"

Harry nodded his head calmly,

"Yes, I'm aware."

The Minister shuffled the papers in front of him and then spoke,

"Do you deny the charges placed against you?"

Harry shook his head,

"No, I don't. I willingly and deliberately performed magic in a muggle neighbourhood despite the warnings that had been issued to me."

The Minister was about to speak when Harry felt his scar beginning to prickle. It didn't take him long to realize that Voldemort was here in the courtroom. That bastard was watching the show and Harry could tell that he wasn't pleased.


	16. Chapter 16

Harry ignored the pain in his scar. This was better. He knew that Voldemort would never give him back his wand now. So, he decided to go all the way and annoy the man further. Harry finally spoke,

"If you're wondering who killed the Dursleys, then let me tell you. That was me. I killed them because I had had just about enough of their treatment. Professor Dumbledore knew about the way they treated me and still sent me to that hell, every summer."

Scrimgeour's lips were pursued and his expression was grim. Everyone else in the courtroom wore similar expressions. Dumbledore rose to his feet and was about to approach Harry when he was struck with a stunning charm. Shouts and cried echoed through the courtroom and everything was in chaos. The members of the Wizengamot had their wands out and were looking for the source of the stunner. Harry looked around at the mayhem around him. This was the perfect time for him to get out. He was about to get up when the chains began to wrap themselves around his wrists and arms. Harry struggled but he knew it was futile. He heard Voldemort's cold laughter and felt his hair stand on end,

"You can forget about getting your wand, Harry."

Harry growled in rage and struggled more against the chains restraining him to the chair. He tried to turn his head to catch a glimpse of Voldemort but couldn't. Instead he was forced to stare up at the horror-struck faces of the Wizengamot. Voldemort's cold voice filled the courtroom and everyone instantly grew silent. The tension in the room was palpable and Harry could practically taste the fear of everyone in the room,

"Everything that Harry spoke is a lie."

Harry was lost in thoughts of his own. Why hadn't Voldemort killed Dumbledore? Why had he just stunned him? Why was Voldemort even here? Harry was about to speak when Voldemort spoke first,

"You had your chance to talk, Harry. Now I believe that it is my turn."

Voldemort stepped forward and Harry finally saw him. He was back in his snake persona. Harry wondered why he hadn't come in his human form. Well the reason was obvious to Harry. No one would be intimidated by Voldemort's human form. Harry closed his eyes and leaned back in the seat. He might as well relax now.

Voldemort observed Harry's relaxed posture and felt mildly amused. It seemed that Harry was not affected by anything anymore. He finally spoke,

"My Death Eaters have neutralized your Aurors. I can only advise you to surrender peacefully and bow down before me."

Harry chuckled silently. So, this was what it was about. Voldemort hadn't cared about his trial. He had only taken his hearing as an opportunity to take over the ministry. Scrimgeour fired a curse towards Voldemort which was deflected effortlessly.

Harry opened his eyes and watched how Voldemort duelled thirty people at once. The fight was hardly fair but Voldemort was managing it effortlessly. Harry couldn't help but notice the grace with which Voldemort duelled. The wooden doors of the courtroom burst open with a bang. Harry was still unable to look behind him but he knew that the Death Eaters had finally arrived.

In five minutes, most of the Wizengamot was dead including Scrimgeour and the one's that had survived were brought down and thrown on their knees. Harry begrudgingly noticed that Umbridge was alive. Voldemort turned to Harry and drew closer to him,

"Did you enjoy the show?"

Harry didn't reply. He could only glare at the man. But Harry's glare was broken as he heard Hermione scream his name. What did they want now? Harry ignored them. He knew that they thought Voldemort was going to torture him or kill him or do both but Harry knew that Voldemort wouldn't do any of that. But he also knew that they didn't care about him. He knew that they were relying on him to save them from the death eaters. They wanted him to beg Voldemort to spare them. They wanted him to play the hero. Harry didn't blame them. They wanted to live. They wanted to survive and they were willing to do anything for survival. Well they didn't know that he couldn't save them. He wasn't the hero. He wasn't the chosen one and after a few months he wouldn't even be The Boy who Lived.

Harry kept his mouth shut as Voldemort observed him curiously,

"Are you not going to save your friends?"

Harry met Voldemort's gaze,

"What friends?"

Voldemort chuckled darkly and then spoke,

"I shall kill them then."

Harry looked away,

"Fine."

Voldemort tilted his head and regarded Harry with intense inquisitiveness,

"I shall deal with you later. In the meantime, I shall allow your friends to leave."

Harry kept his gaze averted,

"Fine. Do whatever you want."

Voldemort addressed his Death Eaters,

"Today, we have conquered the Ministry. Today, we have emerged victorious. Today shall be forever remembered because today our rule over Magical Britain has begun. But we shall not stop here. The wizarding world shall be ours."

Harry closed his eyes. He didn't care. This was just meaningless. It was all meaningless. Everyone was getting what they wanted. Why couldn't he have what he wanted? He wasn't asking for much. He just wanted Bellatrix to die and He, himself just wanted to die in peace. Harry looked at Voldemort and wondered if he should tell him. He looked down at the chains holding him and decided against it. Voldemort could not hold him forever. Voldemort could not chain him to life.

Harry listened silently with his eyes closed as Voldemort spared every single one of his friends, except Dumbledore. Where was Dumbledore? Voldemort had stunned him but where was the body? Come to think of it, he didn't recall seeing Dumbledore fall. He listened as Voldemort assigned his Death Eaters to take over different Departments. It was pretty obvious that Voldemort was going to be the new Minister for Magic. Voldemort called out Harry's name and spoke,

"Harry Potter, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic."

Harry's eyes flew open and his lips parted in shock.


	17. Chapter 17

Before Harry could react. Protests from two sides were screeched out at the same time. Harry realized that Umbridge and Bellatrix had been the one's to screech out,

"Potter, he's not even qualified…."

Voldemort had raised his hand and spoke,

"One at a time, ladies."

It was Bellatrix that went first,

"My lord, Potter cannot bear such a high post in the ministry. He cannot even be trusted. On top of everything, he's the enemy. We should kill him."

Voldemort passed no comment on Bellatrix's objections and turned to Umbridge,

"What do you wish to say?"

Umbridge bowed her head in front of Voldemort,

"My lord, surely Potter is not a viable choice for this post. He possesses no experience. I would like to present myself as a candidate as I have worked on this post for a long time and I am certain that I can serve you better."

Voldemort smirked in amusement. Harry was equally amused because he saw the way Bellatrix had her teeth barred at Umbridge. He wished they would finish each other off in a cat fight. That would be extremely entertaining. Voldemort turned to Harry and spoke,

"Do you have anything to say, Harry?"

Harry wondered what he was supposed to say. He wanted to accept the post, just to spite the two women that he hated the most in the world. He wanted to see them burn. Harry finally replied,

"Sure, I'll accept the post."

Voldemort's smirk widened and Harry realized that Voldemort had expected that and foreseen his reply. He could see Umbridge and Bellatrix seething and he could not explain the pleasure he felt in his heart at that sight.

Voldemort turned to his death eaters and then spoke,

"I shall assume the role of the new Minister for Magic. If there are any objections then you may voice them now."

Cheers and exclamations of joy reverberated through the hall. Harry observed that Bellatrix was glaring at him murderously. Harry winked at her and looked away. He realized that it was going to be fun. This was his only opportunity to get his revenge on Bellatrix. But he was concerned about his decision as well. Voldemort had specifically assigned him that post because he wanted to keep him in his sight. He knew that Voldemort was waiting for him to slip up and reveal his secret and if he had to work with him then he was certain that he would slip up somehow. He would not be able to conceal it forever.

Voldemort announced that the celebrations would continue in the evening and dismissed his death eaters to assume control of their posts instantly. He turned to the survivors and asked them if they would side with him or die. Umbridge along with the rest of the survivors had vowed allegiance to Voldemort and he had dismissed them as well with the promise that he would mark them in the evening.

Voldemort's promise of marking them made Harry feel concerned for himself. He would not take the mark, no matter what. He was not going to be one of Voldemort's follower. Harry shivered at the thought of his corpse with a dark mark on it. No, he would not tolerate it.

Voldemort approached Harry and tapped the chains with his wand. They slid away from his wrists and arms but Harry didn't move. He continued to look away and then finally spoke,

"Why?"

Voldemort chuckled softly,

"Because I believe that this job may give you a reason to live."

Harry felt his heart jump at that. Reason to live? Voldemort's wording was apprehensive and Harry knew that he had used them specially to unnerve him. Harry met Voldemort's gaze and realized that the man had reverted to his human persona again,

"I am not suicidal."

Voldemort moved his hand to touch Harry's cheek but Harry immediately pulled away,

"Don't touch me."

He realized that he had told Voldemort that countless times now. At first, he had said that because he really didn't want Voldemort to touch him. Now he just said it because he was afraid that Voldemort's touch would make him blush again and he didn't want that. He hated himself for feeling the way he did. He was acting like a bloody school girl. Voldemort's voice forced him out of his thoughts,

"Harry, you may begin work now."

Harry leaned back in his seat and spoke,

"What am I supposed to do?"

Voldemort turned his back to Harry,

"For one, you can order everyone around."

Harry laughed at that. He had never desired power. He knew that if anyone else were in his place, they would be thrilled at the prospect of the power that he had just gained but he just couldn't bring himself to feel excited. But there was one thing that he was extremely looking forwards to and that was ordering Bellatrix around. He rose to his feet, stretched and spoke,

"You know you made a huge mistake selecting me as your senior undersecretary. I'm definitely going to make you regret it."

In a matter of seconds, Voldemort had his arm wrapped tight around his waist and was holding him firmly from behind. Harry struggled against him but Voldemort's grip was relentless,

"Are you certain that you can keep up with me, Harry?"

Harry grew still as Voldemort buried his face in the crook of his neck. He tried to keep his breathing even but there was something in the way Voldemort held him that made him breathless. He closed his eyes and gulped visibly. He had definitely bitten off more than he could ever chew. He had told Voldemort that he would make him regret his decision but it was Voldemort that had achieved that task with a single touch.

Harry wanted to melt into the touch. He never wanted it to end. But this was wrong. It was extremely wrong. He couldn't indulge himself. This was going to end. It was bound to end because he was going to die. He had tried not to feel. He had tried his very best not to feel. He had buried his emotions, hopes and sentiments the day he had accepted Sirius's death. He had vowed not to feel and yet here he was. He had sworn that he wouldn't cry but his heart couldn't take anymore of this. Tears streamed down his eyes and he couldn't stop them no matter how hard he tried.

Voldemort spun him around and noticed the tears. He had been playing Harry before but he now he could not deny that he had gotten attached and the same was the case with Harry. His tears were proof of that. How had he grown so close to him? Maybe he had gotten to absorbed in the games that he had been playing with Harry to notice that he had begun to emotionally connect with him. Voldemort raised his hand to wipe away his tears but stopped himself. Was this right? What was this going to result in. He dammed the consequences, wiped away Harry's tears and spoke,

"You can rely on me, Harry. I shall never deceive you."


	18. Chapter 18

Harry held Voldemort's gaze for a fraction of a second and then pulled away from him,

"I'm not going to spill out my secrets to you. You think that you can just coax me into that false sense of security and make me tell you all my secrets. That's not going to happen because I'm not a child and I'm not weak. Whatever you're trying to do, won't work."

Harry was about to walk away when he felt Voldemort grip his arm. He didn't look at him and continued to stare at the door,

"There is a connection between us. Do you not sense it?"

Harry had felt it. He had felt it every time Voldemort had touched him. Before this, it had been in the form of pain and now it was just unexplainable. He couldn't put it in words. Harry shook his head and spoke,

"Yes, there is a connection between us that you seem to have forgotten. We're enemies. You're supposed to kill me. Neither can live while the other survives."

Voldemort continued to hold onto Harry's arm and observed him. He knew that Harry had felt what he had felt. He was extremely fascinated by it and fully intended to investigate it. Why did Harry make him feel the way he did? He knew that he could say the same about Harry. He had seen it in Harry's eyes. He had seen that conflict of emotions and feelings burning in those emerald orbs. Harry was trying to avoid it. Dumbledore had said that love was Harry's greatest strength but where was that love now? When he had looked at Harry before, he had always seen an irritatingly determined brat who wore his heart on his sleeve and prided himself on it. But this Harry was different. This Harry was closed, bitter and cautious. He finally spoke,

"Harry, just tell me."

Harry shook his head,

"You can't know."

He tried to pull away his arm from Voldemort's grip but to no avail. Harry sighed in frustration and spoke again,

"Let me go."

Voldemort pulled Harry close and forced him back into the chair,

"I shall not be releasing you from here until you tell me."

The chains reappeared and restrained Harry again. Harry closed his eyes and leaned back in it. This was just perfect. Voldemort was back at it again. Why couldn't the bastard just give it up already?

"I'm not going to tell you anything."

Voldemort looked down at Harry and felt slightly amused. Well he would see how long Harry could last in those chains. He had no doubt that Harry would grow tired of them very soon. He finally spoke,

"Do you remember the challenge you set for me?"

Harry knew that Voldemort was talking about. He kept his eyes closed and finally spoke,

"You gave that challenge to yourself."

Voldemort chuckled and Harry felt his finger trace his lips. He wanted to pull away but he couldn't move,

"Do you remember what prize I sought to have in exchange for fulfilling that challenge?"

Harry knew exactly what Voldemort meant and tried to appear as unaffected,

"No, I don't."

Voldemort continued to trace Harry's lips, drew closer to him and bent over him. Harry felt Voldemort's warm breath on his lips but didn't dare open his eyes. His heart was burning with desire. He wanted Voldemort's gentle lips on his own. Where had that desire come from? Harry just couldn't understand why he was feeling the way he was feeling. He tried to remember if he had ever felt this way about Cho or any other girl for that matter. All of that seemed like a lifetime ago. Harry resisted the urge to open his eyes. Seconds turned into minutes and it grew apparent that Voldemort wasn't going to kiss him. Harry grew irritated and opened his eyes to see Voldemort towering over him. His head a few inches away from his,

"Are you going to stand here all day? Because if you are, then can you please not invade my private space and step back a little."

Voldemort chuckled softly,

"You wanted me to kiss you, Harry. You want me to invade your personal space. It is written all over your face."

Harry damned his expressions and his feelings. Had it really shown on his face? He doubted it but maybe it had or maybe Voldemort was just playing games with him again.

Harry looked away and spoke,

"Let me go. You have a job to do and I have a job to do now too. Thanks to you."

Voldemort didn't look away from Harry and neither did he draw back. Harry saw Voldemort's perfectly soft lips through the hindsight and he just wanted to claim them. Maybe he should take the initiative. A second voice in his head suddenly woke up. Maybe he was going insane. What was wrong with him? Why was he feeling this way? Where had all these feelings come from? But the biggest question of them all was, why was he feeling all this for Voldemort, a man? Harry had a hard time coming to terms with that. He had no room for this in his shortened life but he just couldn't ignore the desire, no matter how hard he tried. Maybe it was a one-time thing. Maybe the desire would go away if he fulfilled it now.

Voldemort watched as Harry was completely engrossed in his thoughts. He knew what Harry was thinking. He knew what Harry was going to decide. He wanted to say something but he knew that if he interrupted his thoughts now, Harry would retreat to his bitter self. Finally, Harry turned to look at Voldemort and their gaze met. Voldemort understood what Harry wanted. He could see the desire burning in those emerald orbs and he knew that Harry could see that same desire reflected in his eyes.

Voldemort leaned in, so that his forehead rested against Harry's. They closed their eyes. Both their breaths shook from the exhilaration they both felt. Voldemort gently leaned in and kissed Harry's warms lips. Harry felt a wave of electricity run through his body at the contact. He kept his eyes closed. They pulled apart and drew in shaky, shallow breaths.

Harry somehow knew that Voldemort was feeing exactly what he was. He realized that the chains had vanished from his arms and wrists and he could move. Harry couldn't contain himself anymore. He held Voldemort's head in his hands and pulled him into a fiery and passionate kiss. Everything fell away at that moment. Harry couldn't think at all. Nothing mattered to him except for the fact that Voldemort was reciprocating his desire. This wasn't an act. They weren't playing games anymore. Voldemort arms were wrapped around his neck, holding him close, while his lips crashed against Harry's like a tidal wave hitting the shore.

When they finally pulled apart and opened their eyes. It felt like they had been kissing for an eternity. They stared at each other, deep into each other's eyes. It was as if they were seeing each other for the first some. Voldemort's eyes were full of wonder and affection, Harry's were full of anguish and despair. No words were spoken between them. There was no need for words when their eyes could communicate their feelings so well.

Harry was the first to look away. Voldemort understood that the moment had passed but he wanted more. He needed those lips back on his. He wanted Harry in his arms. His heart had ached when he had seen the anguish in Harry's eyes but he decided not to push it. Harry would tell him everything when he was ready to. He just had to be patient.

Harry watched as Voldemort exited the courtroom in silence. He sighed and moved his fingers through his hair. What had he done? He had kissed Voldemort. But Voldemort had kissed him first. They had kissed each other and they had both enjoyed it. Harry closed his eyes and tears rose in his eyes. His heart ached as he remembered the affection in Voldemort's eyes. Was it really affection? It was, there was no mistaking it. How had this happened? How had they grown so close? How could he have allowed it to happen?

Harry wept. He wept his heart out as he realized that he couldn't have what he wanted. He was going to die and there was no avoiding it.


	19. Chapter 19

Harry wandered the crowded corridors of the ministry alone. He had gotten a hold of himself and gained back his composure. He wasn't here to fulfil his desires. He was here to avenge Sirius and he would do it any cost. Harry ignored the distasteful looks he received from the death eaters bustling through the corridors. He was as displeased with his circumstances as they were with him. Harry was determined not to ask for directions and after a bit of searching found what he had been looking for.

He came to halt in front of a shining mahogany door. The plaque on it read:

"DOLORES UMBRIDGE SENIOR UNDERSECRETARY TO THE MINISTER"

Harry hated that name. Reading it left a bitter taste in his mouth. He snapped his fingers and a death eater hesitantly approached him. Voldemort hadn't lied when he had said that he could order people around,

"I want this removed, NOW!"

The death eater made quick work of it. A wave of his wand and the plaque was gone, replaced by one that read,

"HARRY POTTER, SENIOR UNDERSECRETARY TO THE MINISTER"

Harry smirked vindictively at that. He hadn't wanted this but replacing Umbridge gave him the sweetest pleasure. He knew the immense pride that Umbridge had felt due to her post and he wanted to laugh at her face, now that she had been reduced to nothing. Harry vowed that he would make her grovel at his feet.

Harry turned the doorknob and stepped into the office. He felt he had stepped back in time. The room was exactly like Umbridge's office at Hogwarts: Lace draperies, doilies, and dried flowers covered every available surface. The walls bore the same ornamental plates, each featuring a highly coloured, beribboned kitten, gambolling and frisking with sickening cuteness. The desk was covered with a flouncy, flowered cloth.

The overwhelming sensation to destroy everything in this office overcame him. He knew that the death eater, who had removed the plaque was still standing behind him. He didn't care and made his way to the walls as calmly as possible. He was mildly aware of the fact that his hands were shaking with rage. He grabbed the first ornamental plate from the wall and tossed it to the ground. The sound of the plate shattering on the floor, startled the death eater and he stepped back but made no move to leave.

Harry didn't feel himself calming down. Instead his restlessness only grew. He grabbed the next plate and dropped it to the floor. All the other plates met the same fate as the first two. Harry looked down at the floor, littered with the tiny shattered pieces of the plates and didn't feel satiated. He realized that there were three more death eaters now standing at the door and watching him demolish the office. He paid them no heed and continued his onslaught on everything that was even remotely connected to Umbridge

Harry pulled the flowery cloth away from the table, which brought everything from the table, crashing to the ground. He realized that he was panting but that didn't discourage him from grabbing the vases and tossing them to the floor. He stepped over the rubble and pulled away the lace and doilies from the walls. He wanted to rip the pink wallpaper away from the walls with his nails but thought better of it. He knew that he probably looked like a deranged fool at the moment but that didn't matter.

He felt his knees soften and collapsed on the floor. Harry dismissed the death eaters with a wave of his wand and leaned back against the desk. They left and Harry closed his eyes. What was he angry at exactly? Was he really angry at Umbridge or was he angry at himself for losing control with Voldemort earlier? It was mixture of both. Harry looked at his hand, the words that Umbridge had made him carve out there, stood out starkly against his pale skin. He would make her pay. He closed his eyes and rested his head against the desk. The maelstrom of emotions that had been brewing in his chest, finally began to calm down.

Harry didn't know when he had dozed off in that position but he awoke to the sound of a throat clearing. He shook off the sleep and opened his eyes to see Voldemort standing in the doorway and looking around at the wrecked office,

"Is this your way of redecorating?"

Harry rose to his feet and didn't even look at Voldemort. He didn't have the strength to deal with the man right now. When Harry didn't reply Voldemort continued,

"My death eaters came to me, complaining that you were not fit for this job on accounts of mental instability."

Harry laughed humourlessly,

"Why don't you fire me then?"

Voldemort picked up a jagged piece of porcelain from the floor and regarded it as if it was the most interesting thing he had ever seen,

"Your mental instability is the reason I want you here. I believe that this can cure it."

Harry sighed in frustration. Voldemort was getting under his skin again,

"I don't need your sympathies. I might be crazy but I don't need you to pity me."

Voldemort turned his back to Harry. Harry was back to his bitter, difficult self again. No conversation could get Harry to open up now, not until he was ready to open up. Voldemort finally spoke,

"Are you planning on sleeping here?"

Harry had his arms crossed and was staring at the wall blankly. He didn't want to go back to that prison with Voldemort. He was prepared to sleep here. Voldemort chuckled darkly,

"I am prepared to carry you out of here if you do not wish to walk."

Harry ran that scenario through his mind and closed his eyes. He questioned his sanity when he realized that he didn't find the thought unpleasant. Maybe he really was mentally instable. Harry shook away that thought. It had been a long day, he realized that he was starving and aching for a bed.

Voldemort smirked when he sensed Harry's surrender and stepped out of the room. He experienced a rush of satisfaction when he felt Harry follow him.


	20. Chapter 20

Harry had artfully skipped the festivities that Voldemort had planned in order to celebrate his newly acquired rule. He was laying back in the bedroom that he had been allocated, his head was resting against the headboard as his eyes stared blankly at the wall in front of him. He hated this. He hated the way the death eaters were celebrating downstairs. He hated when he imagined how happy Voldemort would be now that he acquired his first goal. The dull sound of music and cheers filtered into the room from downstairs. Harry groaned loudly and laid down. He pulled a pillow over his head to muffle the sounds further. It worked for a while until he heard the door open.

Harry had no tolerance to deal with whoever it was. So, he kept the pillow over his head and kept his eyes closed tightly. Voldemort spoke sternly,

"Get up, Harry. It is time for dinner."

Harry spoke sternly,

"I'm not hungry. I told you I have a headache."

Harry felt the mattress dip as he felt Voldemort sit down on the bed,

"I can have a potion arranged for that."

Harry knew Voldemort wasn't going to leave until he got what he wanted. So, he tossed the pillow at Voldemort, sat up straight and looked at Voldemort, who was wearing a pleased smirk as he held the pillow,

"I am expecting you downstairs in five minutes."

Harry groaned out in frustration as he watched Voldemort go. He put on his shoes and socks and moved his fingers through his hair. He had no interest in socializing with Voldemort's minions. He wondered why Voldemort even wanted him to mingle with them. It was definitely a recipe for disaster and he would make certain of it. Harry practiced his smile in front of the mirror and stepped out of the room.

Exactly five minutes later, Harry was standing in the midst of death eaters and tolerating disapproving glances from them. Harry wore his well-rehearsed smile unfalteringly and felt overjoyed when it unsettled the death eaters. Voldemort noticed him and he also noticed the glares Harry was receiving from everyone. He raised his wand and instantly the music stopped, causing everyone in the hall to grow silent. He ushered Harry forward and Harry calmly made his way to him. When he was standing a few inches from Voldemort, Voldemort addressed the crowd,

"I feel deeply saddened by your behaviour towards Harry."

The death eaters fell on their knees and murmured apologies and assurances. Harry drew an inch closer to Voldemort, leaned forward and whispered in his ear,

"How about you make them kiss my feet?"

Voldemort chuckled softly,

"I shall not."

Harry was feeling extremely reckless. Voldemort had dragged him here; the man should suffer the consequences of it. He resisted the urge to bite Voldemort's ear and instead growled in his ear,

"That's a challenge."

Voldemort hummed leisurely,

"What shall I get in return?"

Harry stepped back from Voldemort and licked his lips enticingly. He knew he was treading on a very thin line. He had no intentions of letting Voldemort anywhere near his lips again although his heart craved it intensely. Harry hoped none of that longing had shown on his face and raised his eyebrows at Voldemort, signalling him to get on with it.

Voldemort smirked cockily and tilted his head to regard Harry for a second before turning to his death eaters,

"As assurance, I expect you all to kiss Harry's feet and accept his rank at the ministry and amongst you."

Harry wanted there to uproar amongst the death eaters. He wanted them to rebel against their master. But instead, Wormtail crawled forward and kissed Harry's feet. Harry was momentarily dazed. He hadn't expected them to give in so easily and internally cursed their unwavering loyalty towards their master. He chanced a sidelong glance at Voldemort and realized that Voldemort was wearing a rakish grin. Harry prevented his own smile from slipping as his heart began to panic. Voldemort had fulfilled the challenge so effortlessly. He hadn't expected that.

Harry tried to push his mind away from that thought and anticipated the moment when Bellatrix would kiss his feet. It didn't take that long and Bellatrix was the last death eater to approach him. Harry's smile widened and she would have killed him with her venomous glare if it were possible. Hesitantly she knelt in front of him. Harry watched her as her lips brushed against his shoes just barely and hoped that Sirius was watching this. He felt some of the fire in his heart cool down at the sight of Bella in front of him. She was about to rise when Harry turned to Voldemort and spoke,

"I want Bellatrix and Umbridge as my assistants."

Bellatrix rose to her feet abruptly and grabbed Harry's neck. He felt her long nails sink into his skin and kicked her hard in the stomach. She hadn't expected the attack from Harry and stumbled back. Harry crooked his finger and invited her to attack him again. She collapsed back on her knees as she saw the livid expression on Voldemort's face and began begging for forgiveness.

Harry touched the spot where Bella's nails had sunk and felt amused to see blood on his fingers. It only served to satisfy him that he had gotten on her nerves enough for her to physically attack him and provided him with the chance to attack her.

He cocked an eyebrow at Voldemort. He wanted an answer from him about his demand right now. Voldemort spoke,

"If you seek my forgiveness than you shall assist Harry with his job at the ministry."

Bella looked like she had been backhanded and the wind had been knocked out from her lungs. Harry wanted her to argue. He wanted to have the pleasure of seeing her writhe as Voldemort crucioed her for her insubordination. But she did no such thing and kissed Voldemort's feet in adoration,

"I live to serve you, Master."

Voldemort patted her head slowly and dismissed her. He raised his wand and the music began playing again as an indication for the festivity to resume. Once the death eaters had relaxed and conversation broke out around the hall, Voldemort stepped closer to Harry,

"So far you have had all your demands met, Harry. But now I believe that it is my turn."

Harry worked hard not to let his façade fall. He knew that there was no way out. He would have to honour the agreement no matter what. He had offered Voldemort one kiss if he completed the challenge, hadn't he? How bad could it be?


	21. Chapter 21

Dinner was a quiet affair and Harry excused himself from the table as soon as he was done. He had felt pleased to see that Voldemort had been too absorbed in a conversation with Lucius to notice his departure. He just hoped that the man forgot about their deal because Harry was seriously beginning to regret making it. He entered his bedroom, closed the door and locked it for good measure. He knew that the lock would provide no hindrance to Voldemort if he wanted to get in the room but somehow the knowledge that the door was locked eased his mind a bit.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and moved his fingers through his hair. He just didn't want Voldemort anywhere near him. What was it about the man that made him lose his self-control? Harry sighed in frustration and closed his eyes. This was terrible. Where were all these feelings coming from? He had buried them. He had buried all emotions and sentiments. But they grew a little less dead, every time Voldemort was close, every time Voldemort had touched him. Harry was afraid that it wasn't long before they finally came alive and dug their way out from the grave, he had buried them in.

Harry decided he didn't want to think about it. He took a long cold shower in the hopes that it would knock some sense into him and changed into a T-shirt and Trousers. He laid back on the bed and closed his eyes. It had been a long day and Harry was glad that it was over. He nuzzled his cheek into the pillow and fell asleep.

Harry heard the distant sound of a click. He wasn't sure if he was in the middle of a lucid dream or it was real. He couldn't be bothered to know right now. The layer of sleep enveloping him was too thick and warm and he had no intentions of leaving it.

Voldemort stepped in the room and found Harry asleep on the bed. He drew closer to him and noticed that Harry's hair were still wet which meant that he hadn't been asleep for long. He closed his eyes and leaned forward to breathe in the scent of Harry's freshy showered body. Should he awaken him? He decided against it. Harry looked far too peaceful in this state to be disturbed. Come to think of it, he hadn't seen this kind of peace on Harry's face when he was awake and about. He smiled when Harry mumbled something incoherent in his sleep and stepped away from the bed. He had no intentions of giving up the payment, Harry owed him but he was willing to postpone it till the morning. After all there wasn't anywhere Harry could run.

Harry woke up in a pleasant mood. Voldemort hadn't been anywhere near him last night and he was glad about it. Maybe the man really had forgotten about their deal after all. Harry's mood brightened even further when he remembered that Bella and Umbridge would be working for him from today. Harry dressed up in a deep crimson linen shirt and black jeans. He pulled on a black jacket that he found in the wardrobe and looked at himself in the mirror. He knew it wasn't the appropriate attire for a ministry official and that was what made him feel so good about it.

He made his way down. The breakfast table was fully loaded but devoid of people. Perfect. Harry looked at the clock and his grin widened. He was delightfully late. Harry ate his breakfast as slowly as possible and relished it. It was the best meal he had had in a while. He rose to his feet after finishing his orange juice and made his way to the living room, where the fireplace was. He realized that he could go anywhere he wanted to right now. He was free. Harry shook away the thought. He wouldn't miss the chance to berate Bella and Umbridge for anything.

He grabbed a fist full of floo powder, dropped it in the fire place and spoke loudly,

"The Ministry of Magic."

Soon he was swept away by the flames and stepped out from one of the fireplaces at the ministry. H walked undeterred and unfazed through the hallway despite feeling the uncomfortable sensation that everyone was watching him. He walked past the security desk without pausing and made his way to the elevator. He stepped in and all conversation that been going on in the elevator halted. He knew the witches and wizards crammed in with him were expending all their energies on ogling at him. He felt like shouting at them but then controlled himself. No, he would not allow his mood to be dampened by these people.

The golden grill slid open and Harry gladly stepped out. He was just making his way to his office when a death eater approached him, bowed and spoke,

"The Dark Lord requests your presence in his office."

Harry wondered what it was about. He mentally prepared himself to be chided by Voldemort on his lateness and his attire. It wouldn't bother him though. Harry signalled the death eater to lead the way and followed him to Voldemort's office. The death eater paused outside a pair of huge oak doors. The death eater bowed again and departed.

Harry pushed open the doors without knocking. If Voldemort could barge into his room without knocking then he could do the same. Voldemort was leaning over his desk and writing something. At the sound of the door opening, he looked up and slowly placed his quill in the ink well. Harry didn't miss the way Voldemort eyed him. The man's face was expressionless but Harry saw a hint of something in his crimson eyes. Voldemort was up to something and Harry began to internally panic. What if it was about last night's deal?

Voldemort signalled Harry to sit wordlessly. Harry didn't feel compelled to oblige and leaned his shoulder against the wall instead. He waited for Voldemort to speak but when the man said nothing, Harry had no choice but to speak up instead,

"What did you want me for? I have work to do."

Voldemort stared at Harry for another minute and then spoke,

"Firstly, you are late. You were supposed to be present here an hour ago."

Harry didn't bother to look at Voldemort. He pushed his hands in the pockets of his jeans. Voldemort spoke again,

"Secondly, I do not approve of your attire."

Harry looked up at Voldemort and adjusted his shoulder against the wall, relaxing even further,

"Anything else or is that all?"

Voldemort rose to his feet and Harry saw a flicker of anger dance across his face before Voldemort concealed it again. Harry took it is a small victory and internally felt overjoyed. Voldemort stepped closer to Harry until he was standing an inch away from him and their chests brushed against each other.

Harry's internal joy faded and was instantly replaced by deep, burning desire. He tried not to let it show on his face and tried to appear as calm as before. He tried to be indifferent. It wouldn't do well for him to let someone with an ego like Voldemort's know how much sway he had over him. He couldn't let Voldemort know how he could awaken his dormant feelings just by being close. He restrained himself from leaning in. He knew what was coming and he felt his body aching for it. He shouldn't want this. He tried not to make it easy or seem too keen.

Harry silently watched with abated breath as Voldemort raised his hand and brushed his hair away from his forehead. Voldemort moved closer and Harry could feel his lean body pressed up against his. It was growing hard to keep his breathing under control and concealing his desire. He felt the warmth of Voldemort's body. For a moment, Harry felt that Voldemort was going to kiss him and he wanted it. He wanted Voldemort's lips on his extremely badly. But instead of kissing him, Voldemort leaned in to caress his neck, slow and gentle. Harry realized that Voldemort was making him wait. Harry could barely bear it. He was barely holding onto his emotions.

Harry's hands balled into fists inside his pockets. It was taking him all his willpower not to lean in and claim Voldemort's lips. Voldemort's lips quirked up in a mischievous grin, right before he bent down over his neck and kissed it. Harry's world fell away at the contact and couldn't stop the gasp that escaped his lips and his eyes flew shut. Voldemort hummed in delight at the sound he had managed to elicit from Harry. Harry's heart was beating at a thousand miles an hour and he was certain that his face was reflecting his desire perfectly well now. A knock on the door rang through the otherwise silent room. Harry didn't know if he should feel relieved or disappointed.

Voldemort verbally cursed. Harry surmised that he wasn't pleased with the intrusion. He instantly grabbed Harry's wrists and pulled his hands out of his pockets. He brought his face close to Harry's ear and practically growled out a promise,

"I shall find extreme pleasure in ripping these clothes off you tonight."

Harry shivered violently in anticipation. He knew Voldemort would fulfill this promise, no matter what.


	22. Chapter 22

In the blink of an eye, Voldemort had returned to his desk. Harry forced his mind not think, straightened out his face expressions and slipped back into his relaxed posture. Voldemort spoke,

"Enter."

Bellatrix entered the office, she bowed reverently in front of Voldemort and then spoke,

"My lord, I implore you to reconsider your decision."

Harry straightened up. If Voldemort reconsidered then their deal would be null and void. Voldemort tilted his head and considered Bella,

"No, Bella. I shall not reconsider."

Harry resisted the urge to stomp his feet and stalked out of the room. His perfectly good mood had been ruined. Harry walked towards his office, kicked the door open and stepped in. The mess he had created yesterday had been cleared up and the office had been redecorated. The pink wallpaper had been replaced by royal blue. Even the furniture had been changed. Harry sighed out in frustration. He couldn't forget how easily Voldemort had manipulated him a few moments ago. Harry couldn't forget his own gasp. Why the hell had he even gasped? His finger trailed over his neck. A knock on the door forced him out of his musings,

"Come in."

The door opened and Umbridge and Bellatrix stepped in. Harry looked up at them and couldn't help but grin. They both looked murderous and Harry wondered what it would take to make them throttle him. Harry finally asked,

"So, let's get to work, shall we?"

Harry lazily signalled them to sit. They hesitated before sitting down. Harry knew he was going to enjoy this infinitely. He continued,

"I want you to provide me with all the legislative files regarding Muggleborns and Magical Creatures."

Bellatrix's eyes widened as she realized what he had asked her to do and rose to her feet,

"This will never happen. I shall not allow it. The Dark Lord shall never allow it. He shall never allow those Mudbloods to be equal to Wizards."

Harry's smirk widened,

"We'll…"

Midsentence, Harry was gripped by the worst coughing fit. He covered his mouth was his hand and tried to restrain it but it was no use. Harry managed to rasp out,

"GET OUT…NOW!"

Bellatrix cackled gleefully and skipped out of the office. Umbridge obliged happily as well. When the door had closed behind them, Harry coughed freely. His chest was on fire and it was aching like hell. Harry felt like his airways were closing. They were coming thick and fast now and he was struggling to get enough air. Harry bent over as sharply as if he'd been punched in the stomach, and drops of blood spattered his lap and knees and stained his jeans and shirt.

By slow, torturous degrees, the coughs eased in intensity and then slowly, gradually passed. Harry slumped back in the armchair and took in deep, harsh breaths. He closed his eyes and wiped away the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand.

Harry laughed cruelly at himself. He deserved this. He deserved all of this. This was what he was going to get for pursuing his desires. Tears streamed freely down his cheeks and he gasped to catch his breath again. He had to get out. He had to get as far away from here and Voldemort as possible.

He jumped to his feet and without a second thought, rushed out of his office. He didn't care where he was going. He made his way to the elevator and pushed in the button for the Atrium. He had only made it to the Fountain of Magical Brethren, when he was gripped by another fit. Harry felt his knees soften and he collapsed on the marble floor. He clutched his chest with one hand and covered his mouth with the other. Harry was hating himself. He had to control himself before one of the death eaters informed Voldemort and the man came down here. The fit passed and Harry sighed out in relief. He knew it wasn't really appropriate but he washed his blood covered hand in the fountain.

Sure enough, as Harry got to his feet shakily, Voldemort appeared. There was pin drop silence in the Atrium and Harry desperately wanted to curse the person who had informed Voldemort. He didn't dare look up though. He could feel Voldemort's gaze on him. Harry drew in a shaky breath and spoke loudly,

"I think we all have work to do."

Harry walked right past Voldemort without a glance and stepped into the elevator. He could feel Voldemort's gaze follow him.

Voldemort hadn't missed the pale look on Harry's face or the weakness in his voice. He signalled everyone to get back to work and thought about going to Harry's office. In the end, he decided against it.

Harry sat back in his seat and looked at the pile of files on his table. At first look he had thought that they were the legislative files he had asked for but it turned out that they weren't. They had come from different departments over the morning and most of them needed his signatures. Harry regretted his escape attempt now. He had gone and made a public display of his weakness and he had also made Voldemort suspicious. No doubt, Voldemort would be thinking about what he had been doing in the Atrium. Harry shook his head. It was done now, there was nothing he could do about it. He picked up a file from the stack and began reading through it.

Harry had literally no idea where the time went. He looked up at the clock at realized that it was eight. Harry rose to his feet and stretched. He was glad Voldemort hadn't come looking for him like yesterday. He was a bit apprehensive about what was coming though. He closed the file and after organizing his desk, exited his office.

The corridors were empty and silent. Harry found it oddly soothing. He silently made his way towards the fireplaces in the Atrium. He could still escape. He could still leave. But his heart didn't approve of escaping now. He didn't want to leave. There was nowhere he could go anyway. But even if he had somewhere to go, he wouldn't leave now. Harry knew that his self-destructiveness was at its peak right now.


	23. Chapter 23

Harry stepped out of the fireplace at Malfoy Manor and felt relieved to discover that the living room was vacant. He had no desire to see or talk to anyone but his stomach grumbled noisily to mock him. He would have to go to the dining hall and he would have to socialize if he didn't want to starve. Harry made his way to the dining hall and upon reaching it, realized that everyone was already gathered there. Voldemort sat at the head of the table and signalled Harry to sit in the vacant chair closest to him.

He took the proffered seat and looked around the table. Bellatrix was seated opposite him. She was sneering at him and Harry instantly felt incensed. He schooled his expressions so that none of his rage would slip out. Bellatrix wanted him to react and he wouldn't give her that pleasure. Food appeared on the table in front of them and Harry felt relieved. He picked up the knife and fork and was just about to start when Bella spoke,

"My Lord, I think that Potter should take some days off from work. It is obvious that he is not medically fit to continue and some rest would do him good."

Murmurs of agreement rose from the table. Voldemort cocked his head and looked at Harry,

"Are they correct in their assumptions, Harry?"

Harry was about to reply when Bella spoke again,

"My lord, you saw his condition with your very eyes today. I have nothing but his best interests at heart."

Voldemort raised his hand to silence her and kept his gaze fixated on Harry,

"Do you require rest, Harry?"

Harry's knuckles had gone white because of his tight grip on the knife and fork. In the blink of an eye, he had chucked his knife at Bella. Voldemort waved his wand lazily and the knife stopped. Harry's eyes widened as he saw it hovering in mid-air an inch away from one of her eyes. Harry verbally cursed and rose from his seat. He could have taken one of her eyes today. It would have served her well. Bella had gotten over the initial shock as well and rose to her feet. She drew out her wand and screeched,

"HOW DARE YOU!"

Harry looked at her, his chin jutted out defiantly and a mischievous smirk played across his face. He wanted her to curse him. Voldemort growled out,

"ENOUGH!"

Bella instantly fell on her knees, begging for forgiveness and kissing Voldemort's feet. Harry, however turned around haughtily and was about to make his way out of the dining hall and when Voldemort spoke in a lethal voice,

"Sit down and finish your dinner or else…"

Harry turned around and looked at Voldemort roguishly,

"Or else?"

Harry saw that same look in Voldemort's eyes that he had seen this morning in his office,

"There is no need to be impatient, Harry. I stand true to my promise."

Harry felt the heat rush to his cheeks and he tried his very best to conceal it. He didn't like the way his heart was beating or the butterflies that were fluttering in his stomach. He hesitantly retook his seat and realized that his knife was still hovering where Voldemort had stopped it. Voldemort noticed it as well and pulled it towards himself with his wand. He took it in his hand and eyed it with amusement before handing it back to Harry.

The rest of the dinner passed in oppressive silence. Harry was just about to get up when Voldemort spoke,

"Do you require a leave of absence from work in order to regain your health?"

Harry sighed out in frustration. He should have known that Voldemort wouldn't drop the matter,

"I'm fine. There is nothing wrong with physically or mentally."

Harry was expecting an argument but it didn't come. Voldemort merely nodded his head and spoke,

"I expect you to be on time tomorrow."

Harry nodded quietly,

"Fine."

Voldemort smirked and Harry saw something akin to mischief sparkle in his eyes,

"I shall also discuss your attire with you in a few minutes."

Harry couldn't help but gape at him. He shook his head, corrected his expression and rose to his feet,

"I don't think there's anything wrong with my attire."

Voldemort shook his head and spoke,

"We shall see about that."

Harry grinned cheekily and walked out of the dining hall. He could practically feel the way Rodolphus And Rabastan had been undressing him with their eyes. Harry couldn't help but chuckle as he made his way to his room.

Once inside, Harry closed the door and locked it. He pulled off his jacket and tossed it on the couch. Harry looked down at his clothes. Even though the blood stains were barely visible on the dark clothing, they were still there and he didn't want Voldemort to see them. He unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it off. He desperately needed a shower. Harry made his way to the bathroom and looked at his reflection in the mirror. He hated himself. What would Sirius think of him now? Sirius would hate him too.

The click of the lock informed him of Voldemort's arrival. Harry leaned over, bracing himself on the sink as his fingers curled against the porcelain. There was no way he'd be having a shower anytime soon. He heard Voldemort approach and cursed mentally. Harry felt like he was going crazy. Why did it have to be Lord Voldemort? Why now?

Voldemort stood in the doorway and watched Harry for a moment. He licked his lips thoughtfully and frowned. He had noticed a lot of small things adding up about Harry's behaviour. There was definitely something extremely wrong with him. Why hadn't it shown up when he had ran a diagnostic charm on him? He couldn't forget how pale Harry had looked today at the ministry and how weak he had sounded.

A shift of weight warned Harry that Voldemort was close, he straightened, looked in the mirror. And without a word, he lowered his head again. He half-wished he could say something, joke about it. The heat next to him was too intoxicating, he wished he had the nerve to do something about it. Leaning on the counter again, Harry muttered to himself.

"This is going to be the death of me."

Voldemort chuckled softly,

"I shall not allow you to die."

The resolve in Voldemort's voice surprised Harry enough that he looked up at Voldemort's reflection in the mirror. It had taken nothing for Voldemort to get so far under his skin that Harry was losing his grip. It was time to do something about this attraction that had been building. Then, maybe he'd be able to focus again

Harry slowly turned around to face Voldemort. He ignored the warning bells going off in his head, and leaned back against the counter. Voldemort stepped closer to Harry and Harry watched the way he licked his lips. The colour drained from Harry's face as Voldemort pulled him close, and his stomach turned again in a pleasant somersault of nervous butterflies. It only took a moment for him to flush with heat, and he looked into Voldemort's eyes guardedly as his entire body tensed.

Harry knew that this wasn't right. It was so wrong on so many levels but that didn't stop his body from wanting this.

The caution that crept into Harry's gaze was a pretty clear warning. Voldemort loosened his fingers and almost let go, but Harry didn't pull away. It was now or never. Voldemort took a slow, deep breath, ducked his chin, tilted his head sideways, and slid his lips firmly against Harry's. Harry caught his breath, nearly gasping when Voldemort finally touched their lips together. He shivered and his lips parted tentatively, but his wary eyes never closed. Giving in, Voldemort pulled him closer and lifted one hand to cup Harry's cheek as he increased the pressure of his lips against Harry's.

Harry groaned softly and finally relaxed against the kiss, returning it tentatively. He knew he'd regret this just as soon as they parted, but he couldn't bring himself to stop it. Tension cramped Harry's gut as Voldemort's lips moved, and he deepened the kiss, all the itch and urge heating inside him as he traced Voldemort's lips with his tongue. Oh, this was going to be an absolute mess, he just knew it. He pulled his hand away from the counter and wrapped that arm around Voldemort's waist as he leaned into the dangerous kiss. He felt Voldemort's hand on his cheek tremble. Harry indulged himself in the deeper kiss for a long, horribly tantalizing moment before he pulled his head back just enough to break the contact and pushed gently at Voldemort's chest. He rasped as his breath gusted against Voldemort's lips.

"This isn't right."

Voldemort slowly opened his eyes as their lips hovered a mere breath apart, and he dropped his hand so that both of them settled on Harry's waist,

"Do you want it to stop?"

Harry just barely shook his head,

"No."

Voldemort claimed his lips again, breathing in heavily through his nose as if he were about to dive under water as he pulled himself closer to Harry and growled a little.

Tightening his arms, Harry closed them further around Voldemort as he met the kiss with more strength, dizzy with the surprise and desire blasting through him. This was beyond crazy. Beyond negligent. All the hate and anger of the past was morphing into heat and passion and he had no idea what to think about it.

Suddenly, Harry yanked away from the increasingly heated kiss again, stepping back and giving Voldemort's chest a good hard smack with the back of his hand. He gasped as he tried to get himself under control.

"You're evil."

Voldemort gasped out a laugh as he leaned back,

"Me? Evil? I thought you were aware of that, Harry."

Voldemort grabbed him and pulled him away from the counter to kiss him again, Harry returned the kiss with increased vigour and forced himself not to think about the consequences. Clutching at Harry's shoulders, Voldemort shifted his weight to push Harry towards the door.

Harry hit the door with a rush of air from his lungs, the impact slammed the door closed, but neither of them noticed. They were far too distracted by the sudden turn of events. Harry gasped accusingly between the hurried meetings of their lips.

"I thought you wanted to discuss my attire."

Voldemort bit Harry's bottom lip slightly and sucked it between his lips before letting it loose. He spoke as he ran a hand down Harry's side,

"We shall get to that."

Harry hissed with the bite. He was extremely turned down and it was all Voldemort's fault.

Pulling in a deep breath when his body reacted to the harsh sound, Voldemort set his forearm against the door over Harry's shoulder, making their chests, hips, and groins rock together and breathed,

"What do you want, Harry?"

Harry banged his head back on the door and closed his eyes, huffing through his nose as he tried to regain some control,

"I don't know."

Voldemort couldn't help but smile and snicker. He caressed Harry's cheek gently and whispered,

"You know exactly what you want. You just need to admit it."

Harry relished Voldemort's touch, smiled softly and spoke,

"Bastard."

Voldemort leaned closer and stroked Harry's lips,

"I shall take that as a compliment."

Still grinning, Voldemort stole another firm kiss. Harry's lips parted almost against his will, and he groaned slightly. Voldemort couldn't resist that little sound, and he moved to capture it, sliding his mouth more slowly over Harry's, tongue sliding between swollen lips.

Harry seemed to melt against him, losing the tension that was always in him, losing the caustic shield he seemed to rarely drop. He merely managed a few incoherent murmurs as he slid a hand into Voldemort's hair.

Voldemort wrapped his arms around Harry when he felt him relax, not tight, just enough to hold their bodies in constant contact. Harry groaned finally, pulling back as much as he dared. Their lips still touched when he rasped, breathing still difficult as his body screamed for more contact.

"Can we have that discussion now?"

It wasn't the right excuse, Harry knew, but it would have to serve. This could only lead to disaster. He slowly straightened, seeing the desire in Voldemort's hooded eyes.

Somehow Voldemort made himself step back, hands sliding on each side of Harry's rib cage until they fell away.

Harry lowered his head, still looking at Voldemort from under lowered brows, and pressed his lips tightly together. He wanted this so badly. He needed this desperately but stopping this was necessary. Nothing good would come out of this.

Voldemort took another step back and moved his hands through his hair to keep them off Harry. He leaned against the counter. He could echo Harry's sentiment and stop this but the urge to touch and taste was still ravaging him, and it was taking all he had not to grab Harry and grind against him. He closed his eyes in a bid to regain some measure of control. He finally growled out in frustration,

"What do we do now?"

After squeezing his eyes shut for a long moment, Harry leaned back against the door and spoke,

"You're going to leave my room and I'm taking a cold shower."

He turned to yank a towel off the rack. Voldemort smirked maliciously and spoke,

"What about our discussion?"

Harry opened the bathroom door and signalled Voldemort to get out,

"Let's have that some other time."

Voldemort raised his hands in surrender and stepped out of the bathroom,

"How about we have it after your shower? Surely that counts as some other time."

Harry slammed the bathroom door shut between them and slumped back against the door. Had he done the right thing?

Voldemort stood outside the bathroom for a long moment, breathing heavily and resting his forehead against the cool surface of the door to calm himself. His body was overrun with the desire to shove the door open and grab Harry again but he controlled it. He had to control it. He wanted this to happen with Harry's consent and even though he knew that Harry was burning up with the desire as well, he couldn't take him yet. Not until he was willing to be taken.

Voldemort's hands curled into fists. Who was he kidding? Harry would never admit it. He would never come to him and ask him to take him. He would have to do it himself. Harry was as willing now as he would ever be. He might as well take the chance now.


	24. Chapter 24

Reaching in the shower to turn the cold water on full blast, Harry kicked out of his jeans and briefs with a growl, the heat of his anger matching the roiling desire for the man he'd just thrown out. He hissed as he climbed full into the shower spray and yanked the curtain shut,

"Bloody Bastard!"

The cold water was barely having any effect. He slammed the side of his fist against the tile, only to curse again colourfully and shake his hand as the pain reverberated through his fingers and up his arm.

Voldemort heard the thud from within the bathroom and finally stopped pacing. He turned to look at the door and narrowed his eyes. He knew that Harry had just hurt himself and he would continue to do this because he had just slipped into his self-destructive state of mind. He shrugged out of his robes, unbuttoned his black silk shirt and tossed it to the side before stepping up to the door and throwing it open.

Harry's head shot up as the door hit the wall. What the hell? Why couldn't Voldemort just leave him alone? He had explicitly told him to leave. But he should have expected this from the ostentatious bastard. No one had probably kicked him out before. He grew very aware of his nakedness and growled out from behind the curtain,

"I TOLD YOU TO GET OUT!"

But Harry's heart didn't want him to go. He had no control over the dirty thoughts running wild in his head all of a sudden. He could see Voldemort's silhouette through the curtain and one glance was enough to tell him that Voldemort was half naked as well and on a mission.

Voldemort was already half-undressed, so it wouldn't have taken him all that long to finish the job. But instead, he yanked the shower curtain back and stepped into the shower without removing his black form fitting pants. He grabbed Harry and slammed him against the tile along the back side of the shower.

He'd half-expected it, but Harry was still surprised by the other man's vehemence and he gasped and growled as his back hit the cool wall opposite the curtain painfully. Voldemort reached over to the shower knobs and turned the temperature of the water up to something more tolerable, holding his forearm across Harry's chest. He drawled as he pressed himself against Harry's body,

"We shall definitely have to work on that temper of yours."

A breath shuddered out of Harry as he spread both hands, palms flat against the tile. The warm water and the press of the other man's body were doing the trick to bring him fully hard. He hated his body for betraying him and spoke harshly,

"Stop it!"

Voldemort's entire body turned over into tackle mode and drove all other thoughts from his mind. He ducked his head to lick a trail of water running down Harry's collarbone and then bit him lightly,

"Shut up and admit it. Admit that you want this. Admit that you feel this."

Harry groaned and his eyes rolled back into his head. His hands moved without thought to clutch at Voldemort's hips. He wanted it. He wanted it to so bad. He spoke thickly,

"You make me absolutely crazy."

Voldemort raised his head and kissed Harry slowly and murmured softly,

"I hate to be the bringer of bad news, but I believe that you were there long before I came along."

Harry's hand shifted up to curl around the back of Voldemort's neck as they kissed, and he shifted his feet apart so Voldemort was right up against his body. His caution and good sense were blown away and he didn't want to say no to this. It was so much better than anything else he had ever experienced. He had never felt anything like this before. He didn't know what it was, all he knew was that his blood thrummed with it; his chest and belly were taut with it.

Voldemort hissed as one hand snaked down Harry's body and between them,

"You might find it a bit more difficult to toss me out next time."

Harry's next breath nearly choked him as Voldemort's hand slid between their bodies, soft compared to the wet pants that scraped against his bare midsection. No, he didn't imagine he'd be tossing Voldemort anywhere. His eyes opened and he asked hoarsely,

"Next time?"

Voldemort's hand closed around him, and he nipped at his chin in answer.

The back of Harry's head hit the tile, and he held Voldemort's shoulders tight as he reacted and a strangled gasp escaped him.

Voldemort cooed to him with a smirk as he stroked him slowly,

"You do want this. Say it. Tell me you want this, Harry."

Dragging his eyes open, Harry met Voldemort's crimson lustful eyes. His lashes were dotted with water drops. Harry couldn't stop the words that slipped off his tongue,

"Yes, I want this."

Voldemort kissed him again almost before he got the words out, and his hand sped up slightly as he pressed his body into Harry's.

Feeling like he was about to burn to a crisp, Harry shook all over as his hips shifted to move against Voldemort's hand. He groaned and laid his head back, eyes shut against the water splashing off his shoulder. He was hard and straining.

Voldemort's other hand slid behind his head to cushion his skull from hitting the tiles, and he kissed Harry again demandingly as he continued to stroke relentlessly.

It wasn't going to take much longer, not at all. The hard kiss, the catch and slide of Voldemort's hand, and the tension all spiralled tighter and tighter as Harry growled into Voldemort's mouth. Voldemort urged,

"Come on, Harry."

Harry gritted his teeth as the electricity of Voldemort's touch flashed through him. He growled and lowered his chin, then he opened his eyes and reached out to grab Voldemort for an animalistic kiss.

Voldemort pinned him against the wall and kissed him back, enjoying the result of his efforts. Body twitching through the climax, Harry had to gasp against Voldemort's lips, crying out on an exhale as Voldemort's hand kept moving while he got more and more sensitive.

Voldemort finally took pity on him and slid his hand back up Harry's body, wrapping around him and kissing him more slowly as he gave him a chance to recover. Shaky and flushed, Harry relaxed fluidly into Voldemort's arms and the kiss, anger sloughing off him like the water on its way to the drain.

After a long, leisurely moment, Voldemort pushed away from the wall and grinned as he licked his lips. When he spoke, he sounded very pleased with himself,

"How does that feel, Harry?"

Harry snorted and laughed weakly, raising both hands to rub over his face as he sagged back against the wall. Voldemort was right, he was crazy or as crazy as he could be.

Voldemort seemed to have read the answer in Harry's eyes. He smiled and gave his characteristic self-satisfied hum before pulling the curtain back and stepping over the side of the bathtub carefully.

Harry watched him as the water misted over the tub's edge. Voldemort's pants were totally soaked and clung to him like a second skin. Harry had to swallow hard. The realization hit him hard. He was extremely attracted to Voldemort,

"I am extremely certain that you shall be incapable of any coherent thoughts for the next hour. I suggest that we postpone our discussion."

Harry muttered under his breath,

"Bastard."

He turned into the spray to wash before leaning and shutting the water off.

Voldemort stood, silent and dripping in the middle of the bathroom, and watched him intently. When Harry turned around, water still dripped down his neck in rivulets down his shoulders and chest as he stepped out of the shower to stand not six inches from Voldemort.

Voldemort licked his lips and tilted his head, waiting for Harry's next move. Harry stood there a long moment. He contemplated on whether he should return the favour and make Voldemort climax as well. He wanted to. He definitely wanted to but he also, somehow, ached to see Voldemort yearn for him. He wanted to see Voldemort burn for him. Before today, he wouldn't have cared. But now, things had changed. Voldemort had made it clear that he wanted him and Harry had also come to terms with the fact that he was painfully attracted to Voldemort. He was curious to see where this would lead, that was if he lived long enough to see the end of it.

Harry wrapped a towel around himself and exited the bathroom with a wicked grin on his face. This was all a game and he had every intention to beat Voldemort at it.


	25. Chapter 25

Harry woke up feeling well rested and extremely satisfied. Last night flashed in front of his eyes and he buried his face in the pillow. When had he grown so reckless? He had started a seriously dangerous game with Voldemort and it wasn't going to bode well for him. He smirked in the pillow. Well, at least he was having fun. Before he could contemplate the matter any further, he was gripped by an intense coughing fit and it took him all his self-control to reach the sink and spit out the blood.

He gritted his teeth as the pain in his chest grew strong. Every breath he drew in was causing him unimaginable pain. He slumped against the wall and waited for the fit to pass. He was certain that it would pass for now. But in a few weeks, it wouldn't. This was going to be his permanent state then. The fit passed and Harry rose to his feet unsteadily. He splashed water over his face and looked around the bathroom. His gaze stopped at the shower and he bit his lower lip as he visualized what had happened last night and felt everything that he had felt last night. Harry closed his eyes and stepped out of the bathroom as the feelings grew too intense.

He slumped back on the bed and sighed out in frustration. He couldn't understand what he wanted or how things had gotten so complicated. What was he supposed to do? Could he really play this game with Voldemort? Maybe the fun wasn't worth the risk. But he couldn't back out now. Voldemort had made the first move and if he backed out now, Voldemort would think that he was a coward. Well why should he care about what Voldemort would think? Because it mattered to him for some warped up reason and his emotions were back from the dead. He couldn't believe himself. He was going to buried six feet under the ground in less than six months and he was thinking about how he was attracted to his former arch nemesis.

Harry chanced a glance at the clock and couldn't help but smirk. He was late again. The pain in his chest had been reduced to a bearable throb now so he figured that he was good to go for the day. He made his way to the wardrobe and his jaw fell open as he realized that all his jeans and shirts had been replaced by severe looking robes, dress slacks and button up shirts. So, Voldemort had decided to impose his decisions upon him now. He snorted and closed the wardrobe. Voldemort was seriously delusional if he thought that he could just enforce his will upon him. He looked at his reflection in the mirror. He was dressed in a grey T-shirt and blue sweat pants. A shopping trip was in order or maybe….

Five minutes later, Harry was standing outside Draco's room and banging on his door. The door was opened, a minute later and a bleary-eyed Draco regarded him,

"You? What do you want?"

Harry pushed him out of the way and made his way to his wardrobe. He opened it up and what he found, plastered a Cheshire grin across his face,

"Go back to sleep, Malfoy."

Draco nodded sleepily and fell back on his bed again. Harry reckoned that he would extremely pissed when he would awaken properly. Harry pulled out a pair of black slim fit leather pants that he found at the very back of the wardrobe and placed them on the back of the settee that had been placed next to the wardrobe. He decided he wasn't going to go with a button up shirt so he pulled out a black V neck that would probably cling to his slender frame. It was a good thing, he and Draco were almost the same size. At the end, Harry pulled out a black leather jacket. He wondered if Draco had even worn it because it smelled new and looked practically untouched. In the end, grabbed a pair of steel tipped boots and decided that he was all set.

Delighted with his selection, he picked up the clothes, exited Malfoy's room and returned to his. Soon enough, he was all dressed up and staring at his reflection in disbelief. He looked different. He wasn't sure if it was good or bad. His black curls were feeling just as rebellious as him this morning so he let them be. His gaze came to rest on the steel tipped boots and he flashed himself a toothy grin. He couldn't wait to see Voldemort's reaction.

Half an hour later, Harry was standing in the elevator at the Ministry of Magic and feeling the weight of everyone's gaze on him. He couldn't help but feel smug. He exited the elevator when he reached his floor and heard several audible groans that clearly stated that some people didn't want to stop looking at him. Harry made his way to his office without a backward glance and he was about to enter when the same death eater as yesterday interrupted him,

"You are late for the meeting, Master Potter. I was told to inform you be there as soon as you arrived."

Harry tried to remember if Voldemort had told him anything about a meeting but came up blank,

"Is it still underway?"

The death eater nodded and led him down the corridor towards a large meeting room. Harry thanked the death eater and stepped in without knocking.

Inside, he saw that the head of all the departments were seated around a large table. Voldemort as usual was seated at the head and Harry saw a seat empty at his right side. At the sound of the door opening, every eye on the room turned to him but Harry was only focused on one pair of eyes, a crimson pair of eyes to be specific. As soon as Voldemort eyed him, Harry saw his jaw slacken with and shock and his eyes widen. He was certain that no one else noticed that because they were too busy staring at him. He smirked cockily and Voldemort immediately straightened out his expressions,

"You are late again, Harry, when I specifically told you to be on time."

Harry casually took his seat, met Voldemort's gaze and spoke,

"You failed to mention this meeting otherwise I would have been on time."

Harry ignored the gasps and cries of outrage he received from across the table at being rude to their master and Voldemort ignored them too. The lust was evident in Voldemort's eyes but his tone was extremely professional when he spoke,

"You would not have missed the memo, if you had been here two hours ago."

Harry rose to his feet,

"I'm not compelled to be here so I think I'll just go."

Harry saw the lust in Voldemort's eyes replaced with disappointment. He shook his head and spoke in a very low voice,

"I am very disappointed in you, Harry. I believed that you would work hard to prove yourself worthy of this role and prove to all my death eaters how right I was to choose you but you."

Harry didn't think that a statement like that would matter but it did. Since when did Voldemort's expectations start to matter to him? But apparently, they did matter because the guilt was like ice in his guts. He couldn't shift or move at all. He had to make this right,

"I'm sorry. I'll try to be more responsible from now on."

He sat back down and pulled the agenda file towards him just so that he could have something to do with his hands. When he slowly glanced up from the file, he realized that the disappointment from Voldemort's eyes was gone and it was replaced with lust again. Harry felt his heart beat easier at that sight and he spoke,

"So, what did I miss?"

Voldemort kept his gaze on Harry and spoke,

"Rabastan, could you summarize what we have discussed so far?"

Rabastan rose to his feet and began talking. Harry decided that taking notes was better than sitting idly so he wrote down everything that was discussed in the meeting. Through it all, Harry felt Voldemort's gaze fixated on him. After an hour, Voldemort adjourned the meeting and everyone rose to their feet to get back to work. Harry organized his notes and had just risen to his feet and when Voldemort spoke,

"Stay, Harry."

Harry set his notes back down on the table but didn't look up to meet Voldemort's gaze again. When the meeting room was empty, Voldemort touched his shoulder and spoke in a gentle tone,

"I have faith in you. I know that you shall not disappoint me again."

Harry looked up and stared directly into Voldemort's eyes. Those words meant everything to him and Harry just nodded his head. Voldemort's smile soon turned into a feral grin and soon enough, Harry was laying horizontal on the table and Voldemort was straddling him,

"I still do not approve of your attire."

That brought the smirk back to Harry's lips,

"I said I was going to be responsible, that doesn't mean that I'm going to start dressing up like you want me to."

Voldemort chuckled darkly and caressed Harry's cheek possessively,

"You are correct, Harry. There would be no fun in that. But keep in mind, that I do not enjoy the looks you receive."

Harry raised his head from the table and kissed Voldemort's lips slowly,

"You're getting awfully possessive about something that isn't yours."

Voldemort smirked viciously and reciprocated the kiss with intense desire,

"I shall have to do something about that."

Harry pushed Voldemort away playfully and rose to his feet. He grabbed his notes from the table and made his way out of the meeting room,

"Don't worry. They can look but they can't touch."


	26. Chapter 26

Harry was just making his way to his office when Rabastan came up beside him and spoke,

"Potter, can we meet after work?"

Harry turned to look at him and raised an eyebrow,

"Why?"

Rabastan bit his lip and Harry noticed that he seemed nervous. That was when he realized that Rabastan was asking him out on a date. Rabastan was a thin man but he was relatively easy on the eyes. His black hair was slicked back and gave him a stylized look. His features were delicate,

"Umm….."

Rabastan twirled his fingers and that was when Harry realized that Rabastan was asking him out. Harry schooled his features. Voldemort was definitely going to lose it and he came to the conclusion that he didn't want Rabastan's blood on his hands,

"Well, I don't want you to die. Voldemort will kill you if he finds out you asked me out. But as it turns out, I can really do with an ally at the moment, since everyone seems to want me dead. So how would you like to be my ally?"

Rabastan winced at Voldemort's name and his jaw dropped when he heard Harry's proposition,

"You want me to be your friend?"

Harry laughed airily. He half expected Rabastan to decline but Rabastan shocked him by nodding his head,

"I think I can do that."

Harry cocked an eyebrow,

"Are you sure? Your sister in law won't like it."

Rabastan nodded resolutely and smiled charmingly,

"You're right. It would seriously tick Bella off. I've never liked that bitch."

Harry chuckled darkly. It seemed their hatred for Bellatrix was mutual. He was beginning to like him already,

"I'm going shopping today. Want to come along?"

Rabastan mulled it over and then nodded,

"Sure, I'll meet up with you down at the atrium. Does six work for you?

This was unrealistic. It almost seemed surreal. Rabastan was the last person he would have thought to be friends with and yet here he was, making shopping plans with him,

"Sure. I'll see you then."

Rabastan moved his fingers through his slicked back hair, smiled and then walked away. Harry pushed his hands in the pockets of his jacket and made his way to his office. As soon as he pushed opened the door, he saw a huge stack of files waiting for him on his desk. Harry groaned. He was really beginning to hate paperwork. Suddenly, a thought gripped him and his face split wide into a grin. He stepped out of his office and then summoned the first death eater that passed near him,

"Get me Umbridge and Bellatrix."

The death eater looked at him with a dazed and confused look on his face. Harry clapped his hand and spoke loudly,

"Chop Chop."

The death eater started and immediately hurried away. Harry returned to his face and sat behind his desk. He picked a file from the top of the stack and had just begun to study it when Bellatrix burst through the door,

"What do you want, Potter? Some of us have work to do."

Harry smiled brightly,

"Exactly, you work for me. And that is no way to talk to your boss."

Bellatrix was about to lunge at him when Harry waggled his finger,

"Uh huh. I don't think Voldemort will forgive your insubordination a second time. So, I suggest that you grab some of these files and get to work."

Harry literally heard her growl and the hostility in her eyes only served to amuse him further. Bella grudgingly picked up half the files from the table and sat down in the chair, opposite to his desk. Soon enough, Umbridge joined them and they all worked in silence.

Harry thought that the entire scenario was outlandish because he had never thought that he would ever be able to work under the same roof, let alone the same room with the two women he hated the most in the world. After an hour or maybe it had been two, there was a knock on the door. None of them looked up from the file in their hands and Harry spoke,

"Enter."

The door opened and a death eater stood in the entry way,

"Master Harry, The Dark Lord requires your presence in his office."

Harry flipped a page and spoke without looking up,

"Tell him I'm busy."

The death eater hesitated before leaving. Another hour passed in silence and then the door flew open. Harry was wondering when Voldemort show up. He didn't look up but Bellatrix and Umbridge rushed to their feet. Lazily, he placed the file he had been studying, on the desk and looked up at Voldemort. He watched as Voldemort's livid expression morphed into fascination and admiration. Voldemort must have realized that Harry had really been working together with Bellatrix and Umbridge. Harry literally felt his chest puff out with pride. Slowly Voldemort approached the desk and the two women stepped out of his way. Harry didn't bother getting up from his seat. Voldemort placed his hands on the desk and leaned towards him,

"I called for you an hour ago."

Harry leaned back in his seat and regarded Voldemort leisurely,

"I'm busy being responsible and trying to prove my worth."

Voldemort raised an eyebrow and then removed his hands from the desk,

"The Daily Prophet wants to publish your interview."

Harry crossed his arms over his chest,

"An interview? Are you serious? I'm not going to do it."

Voldemort's lips quirked up,

"I was not asking for your opinion, I was merely informing you. It is scheduled for tomorrow at ten."

Harry uncrossed his arms and rested his elbows on the desk,

"My opinion. That's what the interview is about. Are you sure you want people to know my opinion?"

Voldemort nodded slightly but Harry could see the mischief in his eyes,

"I think that we should have that discussion tonight at dinner."

Harry snorted,

"I don't think we can have that particular discussion with your death eaters around."

Voldemort licked his lip,

"I do not recall mentioning that my death eaters would be joining us for dinner. I think a more private dinner is in order tonight."

Harry coughed and covered his mouth with his hand. This was his second invitation to a date tonight. What was happening today? Harry removed his hand from his mouth and tried to conceal his smirk,

"I don't think I'll be free in the evening."

Voldemort tilted his head and looked at him with genuine curiosity,

"What are your plans for the evening?"

Harry couldn't conceal his joy then and grinned widely,

"I'm going shopping with Rabastan this evening."

The flabbergasted look on Voldemort's face was precious and Harry decided that he loved it.


	27. Chapter 27

It didn't take long for Voldemort's expression to turn murderous. He dismissed Bellatrix and Umbridge with a wave of his hand. When they had departed and the door had closed behind them, his lips pulled back, baring his teeth and he literally snarled,

"The only thing that you shall do this evening is attend his funeral."

Harry faked a yawn and then flashed Voldemort a smile,

"Stay away from him or else."

Voldemort chuckled darkly and soon enough he was leaning over the desk and holding Harry's chin,

"Or else what?"

Harry rose to his feet and kicked back his chair. He made his way around the desk and came to stand beside Voldemort. He brought his lips close to Voldemort's ear and sucked on his lobe,

"Or else you'll never see me or feel me again."

Harry drew away and retook his seat. He regarded Voldemort and spoke,

"So, what's it going to be?"

Voldemort schooled his facial expressions and managed to contain the storm of emotions that was threatening to make his heart explode,

"I can always restrain you, Harry. Do not forget that."

Harry held his hands in front of him and spoke,

"Why don't you do it now?"

Voldemort traced his finger over Harry's beautiful, fragile wrists and remembered how good they had looked in restraints,

"If you keep up this attitude, I shall have no choice."

Harry made no move to pull away his wrists. Even though Voldemort's gentle touch was driving him insane with desire and sending shockwaves through his body,

"My attitude is not going to change ever. This is who I am now. Get used to it."

Harry finally made a move to pull back his wrists but Voldemort's grip tightened and Harry couldn't pull back,

"What caused you to change, Harry?"

Harry tried to wrench his wrists away,

"Let me go."

Voldemort stepped around the desk, once he was standing in front of Harry, he leaned back against the desk and continued to stroke his wrists with his thumb,

"I have had just about enough of your secrets, Harry. Tell me everything, NOW!"

Harry shook his head silently and stared into Voldemort's eyes with defiance. Voldemort held Harry's wrist in one hand and pulled out his wand with the other. Harry's insides froze at the sight and he knew Voldemort really was going to restrain him. He struggled against Voldemort but it was to no avail because with a single wave of his wand, Harry was bound to the chair to with thick black cords.

Harry gasped as he felt an unexplainable weight on his soul as the cords finished wrapping around him.

Voldemort conjured a tiny vial and dangled it in front of Harry's eyes so that he could take a good long look at it,

"Are you aware of what this is?"

Harry gaped at the small vial and couldn't stop his heart from hammering inside his chest. Of course, he knew what this was and what it would do to him. Harry firmly closed his mouth shut and struggled against the restraints,

"You are not going anywhere until I get the truth out of you today."

Harry knew that Voldemort would force the potion down his throat as soon as he would open his mouth to retort so he continued to struggle in silence as Voldemort continued to talk,

"I had wanted to slip it in your drink, Harry. That would have been so much more discrete and it would have saved us both a lot of effort. But you are responsible for the change in my plans. You forced my hand, Harry."

Harry clenched his jaw shut and realized that he was hyperventilating. He looked up at Voldemort. The bastard was grinning. He was enjoying Harry's torment. Harry felt terribly frightened as Voldemort uncorked the vial and conjured a glass of water.

Voldemort stared at the vial and wondered what quantity to dose Harry with. Somehow, he was certain that Harry would be able to resist the normal dose of three drops and so he emptied one quarter of the vial into the glass and set it down on the table,

"Open your mouth."

Harry shook his head. He willed his magic to react. He willed it to get him out of the restraints but it wasn't working. It was as if the cords were somehow suppressing his magic. Voldemort must have seen the desperation in his eyes because he traced his thumb over his lips,

"I know exactly what you are capable of, Harry and this time I shall not allow you to squirm out of this. Now open your mouth willingly or I shall do it for you."

Harry kept his jaw clenched but he hoped his eyes conveyed the hate he was currently feeling towards Voldemort,

"I do adore the hate in your eyes, Harry. Believe it or not, I do care about you and this is for your own good."

That was when Harry forgot everything and shouted at the top of his lungs,

"DON'T LIE TO ME…. YOU DON'T CARE ABOUT ME. The only thing you care about is this bloody game."

Voldemort grabbed Harry's chin tightly and forced him to meet his gaze,

"THIS IS NOT A GAME!"

Harry had just opened to shout something back when Voldemort grabbed his jaw and emptied the contents of the glass down his throat. Harry was about to spit the potion out but Voldemort covered his mouth with his hand and pinched his nose so he couldn't breathe.

"Swallow it now."

Harry resisted the urge to swallow until his body began to protest. He was suffocating and Harry was left no choice but to swallow. As soon as Harry felt the water along with the potion trickle down his throat, he closed his eyes. An odd calm fell over him and his breathing returned to normal and his heartbeat slowed down. Tears streamed down his cheeks. Voldemort was going to steal away his one secret. He was going to snatch away the only thing he had gotten left.

Voldemort wiped away the tears and caressed Harry's cheek softly,

"Relax, Harry. I assure you. I am doing this for you."

Harry choked out a sob and he didn't like how broken he sounded,

"Leave me alone."

Voldemort brushed his lips against Harry's forehead and spoke,

"That is exactly what I cannot do."


	28. Chapter 28

Harry struggled desperately against the cords as Voldemort relaxed against the desk. He had just opened his mouth to speak when a loud knock on the door interrupted him. He turned to the door and practically growled,

"WHO THE BLOODY HELL IS IT?"

A timid voice spoke from the other side of the door,

"My lord, the head goblin from Gringotts is here."

Voldemort cursed loudly and Harry tried not to let his relief show on his face. Harry was mentally praying that Voldemort would leave. Voldemort turned to Harry and spoke,

"I shall deal with you in a moment."

Harry writhed against his restraints,

"Let me out of these."

Voldemort grinned maliciously,

"No. I wish to see you exactly in this state upon my return and we shall continue from here then."

Harry finally leaned back in his seat. He was hoping that the head goblin would kill Voldemort so that he would never return. Voldemort patted Harry's cheek,

"I promise I shall not take long."

Harry moved his head away and spoke sarcastically,

"Yeah, I just can't wait to spill all my secrets to you."

Voldemort chuckled softly and in the blink of an eye, he had Harry gagged,

"I cannot wait to hear them."

Harry's eyes widened and he screamed in rage but only a muffled sound came out,

"Just a precaution, Harry. I do not want you screaming for help and creating a scene in my absence."

And with that he stepped out of the office, leaving Harry gagged and bound.

Harry was staring blankly at the ceiling. He had no idea how long it had been since Voldemort had left but it felt like a long time ago. His body begged to differ because he was still feeling those distinct effects of Veritaserum. Harry hated this situation and he swore to himself that he wouldn't let Voldemort ever touch him after this. He would leave. He would most definitely leave as soon as he was out of these restraints.

There was a knock on the door and Harry tried to speak but the gag effectively stopped any sounds from leaving his mouth. He struggled against the restraints desperately, wishing that whoever it was, would just step inside without his permission. He had almost given up when the door was pushed opened and Harry looked up to fine Rabastan standing in the doorway.

Harry watched Rabastan take in the sight of him and saw his eyes grow as wide as saucers and his jaw drop open in shock,

"What…What's going on?"

He drew closer to him and removed the gag from his mouth. He waved his wand and attempted to free him from the bonds but nothing happened.

Harry had never felt more relieved to see anyone before in his life. Harry felt devastated when the restraints didn't come off and his brain formulated another plan,

"Leave the restraints, Rabastan. I need the antidote for Veritaserum ASAP."

Rabastan's eyes were clouded with confusion but Harry knew he didn't have the time to explain now. So, he pleaded and hoped Rabastan would just listen,

"Please Rabastan. Help me."

Rabastan seemed to contemplate for a minute and then replaced the gag in his mouth with a wave of his wand. Harry felt bitter disappointment well up in his heart as Rabastan left the office as abruptly as he had arrived.

Why had he thought a death eater would help him against Voldemort? He felt extremely stupid for even hoping it. Harry couldn't stop the tears that streamed down his cheeks. There was no hope for him now. Voldemort would return in a few minutes and get the truth out of him.

The door opened and Harry closed his eyes and turned his head. He didn't want Voldemort to see the tears in his eyes. He wouldn't give him the pleasure of seeing him this weak. Footsteps drew closer to him and his eyes shot open at Rabastan's voice,

"Are you crying?"

Harry turned to face Rabastan. It was his turn to be shocked now. Rabastan removed the gag and uncorked the vial in his hand. He held it to his lips,

"Just drink it all. It'll last a couple of hours."

Harry swallowed the antidote and as soon as he did, he felt that odd calm lift from him. He wanted to thank Rabastan but now was the time,

"I'll explain everything later. You have to go now."

Rabastan smiled gently and Harry felt truly warmed by it,

"I'll see you later then."

Rabastan gagged him again and left. Harry felt overjoyed. His secret was safe. It was safe for at least a few more days. Now he was just looking forward to Voldemort's arrival. He really couldn't wait to lie to him.

Sometime later, the door opened and Voldemort walked in. Harry realized that he looked irritated and was practically fuming. He made his way towards Harry and removed the gag,

"How are you doing, Harry?

Harry closed his eyes. He didn't want to talk to Voldemort. But he realized he was supposed to be under the influence of Veritaserum and spoke,

"I'm doing terrible. You had me gagged and bound for heavens know how many hours."

Voldemort cast a tempus and then spoke,

"I had you gagged and bound for exactly four hours. I had not intended for the meeting to last this long. Goblins are stubborn creatures."

Harry huffed in annoyance and kept his eyes closed,

"Well ask me whatever you want and get this over with."

Voldemort regarded Harry and then picked up the vial from the table. He conjured another glass and added three drops of the potion to it,

"You must be parched, Harry."

Harry opened his eyes and looked at the glass of water in Voldemort's hand,

"Yes, I am. But I don't want to drink that."

Voldemort chuckled darkly,

"You are adorable when you are being honest."

Harry didn't meet Voldemort's gaze but he struggled as Voldemort force-fed him the glass of water again. This time Harry didn't feel the effects and that was how he knew that the antidote was working. Harry forced a look of disgust on his face,

"I really hate you."

Voldemort smirked victoriously and conjured a chair for himself,

"We have wasted enough time already. I am going to ask you some questions and you are going to reply without hesitation. Is that understood?"

Harry couldn't help but nod his head. He would have made a snide remark in usual circumstances but right now he had to act the part of a Veritaserum victim,

"Yes, I understand."

Voldemort's smile widened and then he spoke,

"What caused you to change?"

Harry closed his eyes and slumped back in the chair. Lies, he was thinking which ones would be acceptable,

"Sirius's death. He promised me that we could live together. He was the only real family I had. Sirius would have been alive if Dumbledore had told me about the prophecy. We could have been together like a real family. But now's gone and I don't want to live in this world anymore."

Voldemort was silent for a while and then spoke,

"Tell me about your ailment. Your persistent cough and your paleness."

At least Voldemort didn't know about the blood,

"My relatives weren't the best of people. They were abusive and I was nothing more than a servant to them. Their mistreatment combined with my own willingness to die probably had drastic effects on my health. It'll take me some time to recover from that malnourishment."

Voldemort scoffed,

"Really, Harry? I was expecting your secrets to be more exciting. This is just anti-climactic. Why could you not have told me this before willingly?"

Harry shrugged,

"I don't know. I like the notion of being mysterious. But I guess that's done now. You know everything about me."

Voldemort kissed Harry's lips softly,

"You are still the most fascinating mystery for me."

Harry pulled away from him and spat out,

"If you think that I'm going to stick around after what you did to me today. You are sorely mistaken."


	29. Chapter 29

Voldemort rose to his feet and crossed his arms over his chest,

"Where will you go?"

Harry leaned back in his seat,

"That is none of your concern. Let me go, NOW!"

In the blink of an eye, Voldemort was gripping Harry's chin in a vice like grip,

"You are my one and only concern."

Anger boiled deep in Harry's system, as hot as lava. It churned within, hungry for destruction, and he knew it was too much for him to handle. The pressure of this raging sea of anger would force him to say things he didn't want or to express thoughts and secrets he had suppressed for weeks. How could Voldemort say that he was concerned about him when he had just kept him bound and gagged for hours and had attempted to force the truth out of him,

"DON'T TALK TO ME LIKE THAT….. YOU DON'T CARE ABOUT ME… STOP ACTING LIKE IT!"

Voldemort kept a tight hold on Harry's chin and struck him across the face,

"You are not in your senses. If you shout again, I will gag you."

Harry snarled,

"THAT'S ALL YOU CAN DO…THAT'S ALL YOU KNOW…."

Voldemort had his hand clamped tight on Harry's mouth and his shouts grew muffled,

"Shut up!"

Harry struggled against the bonds and tried to move his head. He kept his gaze fixed on Voldemort's and projected all his hate through his gaze.

Harry's eyes were narrowed, rigid, cold, hard. He could see the hate, rage and anger boiling in those emerald orbs and he didn't like it. Harry looked so different and he knew that he wouldn't be able to contain him much longer,

"I am going to release you now. Do not shout. Do you understand me?"

Harry didn't shift his hateful gaze from Voldemort's for one second,

"Nod your head, answer me."

Harry was in no mood to cooperate or do anything that Voldemort wanted him to do. But despite all that he nodded his head and Voldemort slowly removed his hand from Harry's mouth and took a step back. He removed the bonds and Harry instantly sprang to his feet,

"I'm leaving and don't you dare stop me."

Harry pushed past Voldemort and stomped out of the room. He had no idea where he would go, all he knew was that he wanted to be as far away from Voldemort as possible. Harry made his way through the ministry and felt all eyes on him as he went. It took him all his restraint not to snap and say something unsavoury. He reached the atrium and found Rabastan leaning against one of the fireplaces. There was something different about him. Harry couldn't put a finger on it. But he couldn't help but smile at the sight of him. He had just found the solution to his problem. He grabbed a hold of his wrist,

"Take me somewhere Voldemort won't find me."

The shocked look on Rabastan's face made him chuckle,

"Are you scared? Relax. He'll have to go through me if he ever wishes to hurt you."

Rabastan's shocked expression morphed into a charming smile,

"I know just the place."

They both stepped into the fireplace and Rabastan waved his wand and obliviated everyone in the perimeter. He threw a handful of floo powder and spoke,

"Knockturn Alley."

They appeared in the stone fireplace of what looked like a large, dimly lit wizard's shop. Harry knew it was Borgin and Burkes. He had been here before. The glass case nearby that had once held a withered hand now held a pumping heart on a cushion, there was a blood-stained knife and a staring glass eye. Evil-looking masks leered down from the walls, an assortment of human bones lay upon the counter and rusty, spiked instruments hung from the ceiling. The dark, narrow street Harry could see through the dusty shop window was bustling with activity,

"Rabi, are you sure Voldemort won't look for me in Knockturn Alley?"

Harry turned to look at Rabastan and realized that he was blushing,

"I won't call you that if you don't like it."

Rabastan started,

"No…..No, it's perfectly alright. I like it."

Harry grinned and thumped his shoulder,

"Okay then, Rabi. Lead the way."

Rabastan smiled goofily and made his way to the counter. Harry watched him pass the man at the counter a few galleons. The man handed Rabastan a black bundle. He turned to face him and handed it to him,

"We don't want anyone to recognize you now, do we?"

Harry opened up the bundle and realized that it was a cloak. Harry pulled it on. Rabastan drew closer and pulled the hood over his head. Harry hadn't expected Rabastan to be so caring and so gentle. He wondered how he had ended up as a death eater. Rabastan snapped his fingers,

"Harry, we should get going."

Harry nodded his head, he watched as Rabastan obliviated the shopkeeper as they exited the shop. Harry was glad that Rabastan wasn't taking any chances. They made their way through the crowd and Harry felt as if he was in a different world altogether. The people were so different, the shops, the vibes, the people's aura. Harry felt fascinated by it. Rabastan led down a narrow side alley and unlocked a rusty metal door with his wave. It opened with a creak and Rabastan stepped inside. Harry followed silently. It was too dark to make out anything. He felt Rabastan take his hand and lead him up a flight of stairs. They seemed to have reached another door and Rabastan unlocked it as well. He stepped in and turned on the lights with a wave of his wand.

Harry explored the seemingly small apartment in total awe and it turned out it wasn't small at all and it wasn't very magical either. It was the exact opposite of magical. It looked like a place from the muggle movies his relatives had used to watch all the time. The bed was king-sized with pure white, Egyptian cotton sheets. There was a huge desk, a forty-inch flat screen with video and DVD, a sprawling leather sofa, and, on the other side of the floor-to-ceiling windows was his own private terrace. The kitchen was huge and fully equipped with everything. There was even a double door refrigerator. And in the bathroom, there was a bath big enough for a Quidditch team, and a Jacuzzi. Everything in marble and handcrafted tiles,

Rabastan was reclining back on the couch and Harry walked towards him and flopped down beside him,

"Do you live here, Rabi?"

Harry watched Rabastan as he moved his fingers through his slicked back hair, he looked relaxed and untroubled. Rabastan was maybe twenty years older than him but he didn't look like it. He was a different brand of handsome. Where Voldemort was handsome in a devilishly sinister way, Rabastan was handsome in a charming, warm kind of way,

"I come here whenever I want peace."

Harry twirled his thumbs,

"You really do look peaceful right now."

Rabastan turned to look at him and smiled softly,

"Make yourself at home, Harry. No one knows about this place and it's unplottable so no one can find it."

Harry made himself comfortable on the couch. Rabastan rose to his feet and then spoke,

"I'll have to leave, Harry. The Dark Lord will suspect that I am with you if I don't return to the manor."

Harry straightened up again,

"But what if Voldemort hurts you or forces the truth out of you."

Rabastan grinned mischievously,

"I still have the antidote for Veritaserum and I am certain he won't bother with me after the conversation we had this afternoon."

Harry's raised an eyebrow,

"He had a conversation with you?"

Rabastan shrugged and then spoke,

"Yeah after I delivered the antidote to you, he came to my office."

The impatience must have shown on his face because Rabastan averted his gaze and rubbed his arm,

"Umm…the cruciatus was definitely involved."

Harry instantly rose to his feet,

"He tortured you. WHY?"

Rabastan got up to his feet and spoke gently,

"It's alright. He wanted me to stay away from you. And I think that has worked in our favour. Because he won't suspect me now."

Harry grumbled under his breath,

"I am definitely going to make him pay for this."

Rabastan chuckled softly,

"I think you are capable of that. He seems obsessed with you."

Harry frowned and looked down at his feet,

"It's not a healthy obsession."

Rabastan rubbed his back,

"There's food in the fridge and the TV will keep you entertained. I find these muggle trinkets extremely fascinating, don't you?"

Harry had spent most of his time with these muggle trinkets so they weren't anything new to him. But he was excited about having the TV to himself. His relatives had never let him anywhere near their set and Rabastan's looked particularly new and more advanced. Rabastan made his way to the door,

"Are you going to come to work tomorrow?"

Harry thought about it and then spoke,

"Yeah I will. I won't miss an opportunity to torment that bastard. Can you bring me some clothes tomorrow? And by clothes, I don't mean those serious looking robes."

Rabastan smiled wickedly,

"I know exactly what you mean."

Harry grinned back,

"Be careful, Rabi."

Rabastan smiled infectiously and then departed. Deep down, Harry was concerned about Rabastan. He had helped him out despite the torture he had faced earlier. He had practically saved him today by getting him the antidote in time. He remembered when he had seen Rabastan leaning against a fireplace in the Atrium, he had thought he had looked different. And Harry realized that he had been masking his pain then. Harry cursed verbally and his promise from earlier seemed so hollow right now. He hadn't been able to prevent Rabastan from getting hurt and he loathed himself for it. He definitely owed him a lot.


	30. Chapter 30

Harry woke up with a start and it took his brain a while to catalogue his surroundings and remember where he was and how he had wound up here. He was sprawled out on the couch. He had fallen asleep here last night after watching a bunch of random shows on the TV. Harry sat up straight and looked up at the clock. It was 8:30. Why had he woken up so early? Well he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep now so he might as well get up. He was gripped by a coughing fit as soon as he sat up. Right, his morning just wasn't complete without coughing up blood.

Harry made it to the sink, just in time. After washing away the blood. Harry decided that he had enough time to test out the bath tub. He filled it up and found a collection of bath salts and shower gels. He couldn't help grinning mischievously as an idea captured him.

After a long, relaxing bath, Harry pulled on his boxers, grabbed a bathrobe and donned it. He hoped Rabastan would get him the clothes he had asked for and right on queue Harry heard the door opening. Harry cautiously made his way out of the bathroom. Maybe it wasn't Rabastan. He peered out into the hallway and relaxed when he saw Rabastan standing there with a couple of bags in his hand.

He stepped into the hallway and watched Rabastan eye him from head to toe. Harry sauntered over to him and took the bags from his hand,

"I assume these for me, Rabi?"

Rabastan's cheek instantly flushed with desire. He gulped visibly and nodded his head. Harry grinned. If Rabastan's expression was anything to go by, he must be smelling pretty amazing. He knew the combination he had created. bergamot, grapefruit, pink pepper, cinnamon, saffron and at the very end, tobacco. He yearned to see Voldemort this defenceless,

"I used some of your bath salts and shower gels. I hope you don't mind."

Rabastan looked so dazed. It took a while for Harry's words to reach him and then he shook his head and spoke.

"Uhh…It's no problem…You smell….."

Harry grinned wickedly because Rabastan's voice trailed off as he drew closer to him and assaulted him with his scent again. He leaned closer to his ear and whispered,

"Intoxicating? Is that what I smell like?"

Rabastan's eyelids drooped and he moaned out,

"Yesss."

Harry nipped at his ear,

"Get it together, Rabi. I'm going to change."

Rabastan groaned in protest. Harry stepped away from him and noticed the bulge forming in Rabastan's pants. He snickered and walked back into the bedroom. Damn, he really needed to see Voldemort like this.

Harry emptied the bags on the bed and regarded them. They were exactly what he had wanted. Harry picked out a dark purple V neck and a pair of skin tight black pants. He laced up the black knee length combat boots and in the end pulled on the black, waist length, fitted military jacket. He messed up his already messed up hair and stepped out of the bedroom.

Rabastan who looked like he had just recovered from earlier fell back into that state again. Harry watched with extreme satisfaction as Rabastan moved his tongue over his dry lips to moisten them. Harry chuckled darkly and snapped his fingers,

"Can we go now, Rabi?"

Rabastan nodded his head dazedly and rose to his feet. He looked way too adorable but the only person he wanted to reduce to this state today was Voldemort. Harry grabbed the cloak and pulled it on. He definitely didn't want to be recognized. They were just making their way down the stairs when Rabastan cast something on him. Harry turned around and demanded in a voice loud with rage

"What did you do?"

Rabastan walked past him,

"You have no idea how intoxicating your scent is right now. Do you really want everyone in Knockturn Alley to be attracted to you, Harry?"

Harry shook his head and felt guilty about his tone. He really had some very deep trust issues and he needed to get over them when it came to Rabastan,

"Thanks, sorry."

Rabastan shook his head and smiled warmly,

"You're precious, Harry. No wonder The Dark Lord is so obsessed with you."

Harry began walking again,

"I told you, it's not a healthy obsession. I'm not going to become one of his possessions."

Harry laughed at himself. That had almost rhymed. Once they were near Borgin and Burkes, Rabastan dropped a handful of galleons in his jacket pocket,

"You'll need some money to use the fireplace at Borgin and Burkes. Go on ahead and I'll obliviate the shopkeeper later."

Harry nodded. It wasn't safe for Rabastan to travel with him or to be even seen with him and there were only so many people they could obliviate. Just as Harry entered Borgin and Burkes, he felt whatever spell Rabastan had placed on him, to hide his scent, lift. As soon as he entered the shop, the shopkeeper rushed to him and Harry could practically read the desire to please in his eyes,

"How may I serve you, Sir?"

Harry knew that the man would do anything, he looked willing enough to take his own life. It seemed like he wouldn't be needing the money after all. Harry shook his head and went straight to the fireplace and flooed himself to the ministry.

Harry stepped into the crowded Atrium and felt every gaze fixated on him. Witches and Wizards stepped out of his path. He could get used to this. But this power wouldn't mean anything if it didn't work on Voldemort. Harry entered the elevator, he began to get irritated as he felt people brushing against him on purpose in that enclosed space and he gritted out,

"I'll sack anyone who touches me again."

The rest of the elevator ride passed without Harry having to fire anyone. He exited the elevator and made his way to his office. He was about to enter when he thought if he should pop into Voldemort's office and wish him good morning. Well he didn't really have any good wishes for that bastard. He was just excited to see his reaction to him today. Voldemort had messed with the wrong person and Harry fully intended to torture him in every way possible.


	31. Chapter 31

Harry decided against going to Voldemort's office. The bastard would surely know by now that he had arrived and if he wanted to see him, he would just have to come to him. With these thoughts in mind, he pushed open the door and stepped in his office. Harry hadn't even settled in his seat when a knock on the door startled him,

"Enter."

A death eater stepped inside followed by a severe looking wizard. Harry raised an eyebrow at the death eater, who flushed, cleared his throat and spoke,

"This is Barnabas Cuffe, the editor of The Daily Prophet."

Harry cursed. He had completely forgotten about the interview. Well, if he was going to give an interview, he would have it on his own terms,

"I want Rita Skeeter."

The man, Barnabas eyed him critically and then spoke,

"The Dark Lord personally asked me to interview you."

Harry opened up a file and began rifling through it,

"I won't repeat myself."

Barnabas stomped out of the room in anger and the death eater followed hot on his heels. Harry chuckled and closed the files. Half an hour passed and then there was another knock on the door,

"Come in."

This time Rita Skeeter stepped in and she halted in her steps when her gaze came to rest on him. Harry rose to his feet and flashed her his most charming smile. He loved the shocked expression on her face,

"I presume you're here for my interview. Take a seat."

Rita's blonde hair were set in elaborate curls that contrasted oddly with her heavy-jawed face. She wore jewelled spectacles studded with rhinestones, and had thick fingers ending in two-inch nails, painted crimson. She was carrying her crocodile-skin handbag, inside of which Harry knew she carried her acid green Quick-Quotes Quill. She looked extremely flustered and took a seat,

"Well I haven't gotten all day. Can we begin now?"

Rita shook out of the daze she had been lost in and began rummaging through her bag for the quill and a roll of parchment. She stretched out the roll of parchment on the table and placed the quill upright on the parchment, where it stood balanced on its point, quivering slightly.

Harry was remembering the last interview he had had with Rita and he instantly knew that this was going to very very different from his previous one. Rita seemed distant and Harry knew it was because of his scent or looks or maybe both,

"So…. So, you seem different. Let's start with that. Rumours say that you switched sides the night, The Dark Lord was brought back."

Harry chuckled softly and watched the quill dashing across the parchment writing words after words,

"I haven't switched sides because there are no sides to switch."

Rita leaned back in her seat and blinked owlishly,

"So, what are your plans? What do you hope to achieve and what are your aims?"

Harry relaxed in his seat as well and wondered about that. Right now, his only plan was to tick Voldemort off as much as possible but he didn't want that to be published in the paper,

"I am currently working on some reforms for Muggleborns and Magical Creatures such as Werewolves and Centaurs. I plan to bring them at par with normal Witches and Wizards and put an end to Pureblood supremacy. You'll see some positive changes in the next couple of days."

Harry watched with satisfaction as the quill wrote it all down. He spoke,

"Off the record, if you edit this interview or allow anyone else to edit it, I'm going to let slip that you're an unregistered animagus."

Rita paled and Harry smirked vindictively. She shook her head and spoke,

"The rumour mill has been running overtime when it comes to you these days. And our readers have submitted several questions that they want answered by you."

Harry fiddled with a button on his military jacket,

"Ask away."

Rita dove right into it,

"Are in a relationship with The Dark Lord?"

Harry wasn't unfazed by the question. He had expected Rita to ask him something like this,

"No, I'm not."

Rita surveyed the roll and then continued,

"Did you sleep with him in exchange for sparing your life?"

That was something he hadn't expected. But he felt infuriated. He rose to his feet in rage and Rita started and quivered. He looked at her. Was his rage really that apparent,

"No, I have NEVER slept with Lord Voldemort. And I've never asked that BASTARD for anything."

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. Calling Voldemort, a bastard on record was perhaps going too far,

"Scratch that bastard part."

Rita exhaled a long breath. It seemed she had been stressed about getting that part printed as well,

"Did the Dark Lord coerce you into taking this post?"

Harry shook his head. As if Voldemort could coerce him into doing anything. What were the people thinking? Well he didn't really care what they were thinking,

"I am doing this job quite willingly and I can assure you that I enjoy everything about it other than the paperwork."

Rita looked at the roll of parchment which was almost full,

"Are you in a relationship with anyone else?"

Harry sighed. Why was his love life so sensational?

"No, I'm not seeing anyone and I don't plan to."

Rita chanced a glance at the parchment again,

"Where are you staying these days? Rumours say that you are staying at Malfoy Manor."

Harry smirked,

"Past tense…I was staying in Malfoy Manor. I've moved out."

Rita dabbed at her forehead with a silk handkerchief. It seemed his presence was finally getting intolerable for her,

"Care to share where you're staying now."

Harry shook his head and laughed softly,

"Nope. That is none of anyone's concern."

Rita tapped her nails on the table nervously,

"Any message for the readers."

Harry thought for a while and then spoke,

"Stop spreading and believing rumours."

The quill finally paused scribbling. Rita picked it up and dropped it in her bag. Harry took the roll of parchment before Rita could grab it and began reading through the text on it. After he was done, he rolled it up and handed it to her, making sure that he brushed his fingers against hers afterwards,

"This is perfect. Make sure it's printed exactly like this."

Rita's face was unnaturally red and she had just moved to hurry out of the office when the door opened and Voldemort stepped in. He eyed Rita for a minute and his eyes narrowed when he noticed the blush on Rita's cheeks. Rita hurried past him wordlessly.

Harry watched Voldemort's attention turn to him. He looked up and noticed that Voldemort's eyes were dilated with lust and pleasure. He felt extremely satisfied with that look but he wanted to see more. Harry rose to his feet and stepped closer to Voldemort. Voldemort inhaled sharply and had raised his hand to touch him when Harry slapped it away and spoke,

"Uh huh, you're not allowed to touch me anymore. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some work to do."


	32. Chapter 32

Harry found himself pinned to the wall by an invisible force. His arms held over his head. Voldemort stepped closer to him and smirked malevolently,

"Am I touching you now, Harry?"

Harry growled and struggled against the invisible force holding him. Voldemort leaned closer to him and inhaled his scent and laughed delicately,

"This is your fault. You really should not tempt me."

Harry gnashed his teeth and closed his eyes. How did Voldemort always manage to have the upper hand over him,

"You're a bastard."

Voldemort straightened up,

"I shall take that as a compliment."

Harry stood still and calmed himself down. There was no point in struggling,

"What do you want?"

Voldemort raised his hand to caress his cheek but then dropped it midway,

"You."

It was Harry's turn to laugh now,

"Never."

Voldemort smiled smugly,

"You desire it too. The clothes you wear, your scent today. All your actions so far have been to seduce me."

Harry huffed indignantly,

"In your dreams. I don't want to be anywhere near you."

Voldemort drew closer to Harry again and licked his lips. Harry eyed his tongue and his heart burned with the desire to feel it on his lips. Harry remembered everything he had felt when he had been in the shower with Voldemort that night. His skin tingled and his throat went dry. Damn, now he was yearning for Voldemort to touch him. He was getting under his skin again. Harry didn't like where this was heading. He didn't want to feel all this. He didn't need it. Harry closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall. He was extremely aroused and Voldemort hadn't even touched him. Robes would have been a better option in these circumstances,

"Your body disagrees."

Harry was aware of the fact that his cheeks were burning with embarrassment and he felt needles pricking all over his back. This was exactly how it had happened in the shower. The only difference was that Voldemort wasn't touching him right now. Harry gulped and tried to distract himself from the desire burning his soul. Everything that had happened that night flashed infront of his eyes. Everything he had said to Voldemort. Everything that he had admitted. Voldemort had said that there would be a next time. Was this it?

"We're…This isn't..."

Harry couldn't string together the words. Voldemort blew Harry a kiss,

"We shall continue this later. Do you understand?"

Harry shook his head. No, he wouldn't be anywhere near Voldemort later. He couldn't have this,

"YOU WANT THIS! You want this just as much as I do. You admitted it. Why do you keep going back on your word?"

Harry opened his eyes and met Voldemort's gaze,

"I never gave you my word. That night, in the shower, that was a mistake. It was my biggest mistake and I regret it."

Voldemort took a few steps back and Harry saw pain in Voldemort's eyes. That look was so different, so human, that Harry had never thought he would see it in Voldemort's eyes. The man looked wounded and then he was gone taking the invisible force with him.

Harry covered his mouth with his hand. What had he just said? No, no, no. He hadn't meant to say that. He hadn't meant it like that. He didn't regret anything that had happened that night because it had been Voldemort that had caused him to feel all that. He regretted it because he didn't want Voldemort to grow attached to him. He had ran from everyone for this very reason. But that look in Voldemort's eyes had been heart-breaking. No, this wasn't how he had wanted things to go. He had expected Voldemort to get angry. He had expected him to torture him. This wasn't the outcome he had predicted.

He walked to his seat and slumped down in it. Somehow, he felt like a monster. Maybe this was for the best. Harry banged his head against the desk. Who was he kidding? He hadn't wanted this to happen. He looked at the clock. It was nearly lunch time. He rose to his feet and stepped out of his office. He walked straight up to Voldemort's and knocked,

"I do not wish to speak to you."

Harry pushed open the door and stepped in. He found Voldemort seated behind his desk with the same pained look in his eyes. He looked up and met Harry's gaze. Harry bit his lower lip. He didn't know what to say,

"I believe that you have seen enough to satisfy your heart. Now leave."

Harry pushed his hands in his pockets,

"I…."

But before Harry could say anything. Voldemort had raised his hand,

"There is a meeting this afternoon. Do not be late."

And with that he vanished. Harry stared into Voldemort's vacant seat blankly for a while. This was getting worse and he was feeling more and more terrible with every passing second. Harry stalked back to his office. He hadn't expected his day to turn out to be this horrible. A knock on the door brought him out of his musings,

"Come in."

A death eater entered with a huge stack of files hovering behind him. Harry eyed the stack,

"What is this?"

The death eater was struggling to speak. Harry had forgotten all about the scent. He was really beginning to despise it. He was despising himself,

"The files on Muggleborn legislation."

Harry thanked him. The death eater left the stack on his desk and walked away. He could really do with some work to distract himself. Harry pulled up the first file from the stack and began studying it.

Another knock on the door interrupted Harry's studying. He yawned and stretched. How long had he been seated here? He looked up at the clock and cursed. Damn. The meeting,

"Enter."

A death eater entered,

"The meeting has been underway for fifteen minutes. I was told to fetch you."

Harry was already on his feet. He combed his fingers through his hair and hurried out of the office and hurried towards the meeting room. He nearly stumbled over the doorway when he reached it. Voldemort was seated at the head of the table and he didn't spare Harry a single glance. Harry took the vacant seat and began taking notes as the heads of various departments shared their reports. During the meeting, Voldemort treated him as if he was invisible and Harry knew that he deserved that for what he had done. But he had to make this right and he wasn't going to get a better opportunity than this because the meeting was drawing to a close.


	33. Chapter 33

The Death Eaters filed out from the meeting room and Harry waited for them to clear out completely. Voldemort rose to his feet and Harry realized that he was going to vanish again when Harry lept forward and grabbed his arm. The next thing he knew everything went black, he was being pressed very hard from all directions; he couldn't breathe, there were iron bands tightening around his chest.

The sensation vanished as soon as it had appeared. He gulped great lungfuls of air and opened his streaming eyes. He felt as though he had just been forced through a very tight rubber tube. It was a few seconds before he realised that he was standing on the shore of a lake. The lake lay silver in the bright light of the evening sun, not a perfect ovoid like a looking glass of old, but irregular like an ink-splat on aging concrete. The rippled water ran right into the crevices, washing the soil from the rocks. Around the edges were pines, chaotic in their spacing but never more than a few feet without a tree. The only sound was the soft whispering of the trees.

Harry didn't release Voldemort's arm afraid that the man would vanish again. Voldemort however yanked his arm out of his grip and stepped away from him and towards the lake. Harry stared at his back and had just opened his mouth to speak when Voldemort spoke,

"Do not attempt to justify yourself."

Harry shut his mouth. Voldemort's tone was cold and devoid of any emotions. Harry tore his gaze away from Voldemort and stared at the lake instead. Before he knew it, the question slipped from his lips,

"Do you come here often?"

Voldemort remained silent and stared off in the distance so Harry sat down on a rock and watched the placid lake as well. There was definitely something calming about this place. There was no one else around and Harry was certain that Voldemort was the only person who ever came to this place.

After minutes of silence, Voldemort exhaled and turned around to face Harry. Harry rose to his feet and met Voldemort's smouldering crimson gaze,

"I cannot seem to understand you, Harry."

Harry laughed earnestly,

"I don't understand myself either."

Voldemort turned around and faced the lake again,

"I suggest that you figure yourself out. Come to me when you have truly decided upon what you want."

Harry pushed his hands into his pockets and looked down at the ground,

"So, you're telling me to leave?"

Voldemort nodded his imperceptibly. Harry closed his eyes,

"I didn't mean to say what I did."

Voldemort chuckled darkly,

"And yet you did."

Harry's shoulders slumped in resignation,

"I wasn't thinking straight."

Voldemort raised his gaze to the sky,

"I have a feeling that you never think straight. If you did then perhaps you would at least understand yourself."

Harry nodded his eyes. Voldemort was right. He was extremely right. But there was another reason he couldn't think straight. He wanted Voldemort. He desired him more than anything but it was impossible. He couldn't have this because he was going to die and he didn't want to leave Voldemort heartbroken. Every time he attempted to be close to Voldemort, that voice in his head began whispering ominous predictions about how painful his death would be and exactly how painful it would be for Voldemort. Maybe this was the perfect opportunity for him to step away from Voldemort and leave like he should have days ago,

"Can you drop me off at the Ministry? I have a resignation letter to write."

Voldemort turned around and looked at Harry. Harry opened his eyes and he saw the pain etched in every line of Voldemort's face and felt it radiate it from his very being. He drew forward and gripped Harry's arm and soon Harry was experiencing that same suffocating feeling again.

Harry landed in his seat and Voldemort vanished immediately. He buried his face in his hands and tried to breathe. This was hurting him more than he had thought. Damn it. He was hopelessly attached to Voldemort. Everything that Voldemort had ever said to him had been right. He needed to figure himself out because this…. this was getting out of hand. Harry coughed and covered his mouth with his hand.

He pulled out a roll of parchment and began writing his resignation letter. He would never come back here again. He was never going to see Voldemort again. This wasn't how he had wanted things to end but he would have to make do with this. He had to run from Voldemort now before he lost his will to run.

Harry finished the letter and rose to his feet. He went up to Voldemort's office and knocked. Voldemort didn't reply. Harry pushed open the door and stepped in. Voldemort was nowhere in sight which probably meant that he had returned to the lake or somewhere else. Either way Harry was extremely grateful. He placed the letter on the desk wordlessly and stepped out.

Harry didn't like the way things were ending but he had learnt that life wasn't fair, especially to him, and he never got what he wanted. He took the elevator and got off at the Atrium. He looked around but didn't find Rabastan. Maybe he ought to find a place of his own but for now Rabastan's would have to do. He was just walking to the fireplace when the Atrium went dark, frightening, absolute blackness.

Harry halted in his steps and attempted to look around but he couldn't see anything. Gasps and murmurs broke out. He was sorely missing his wand but he shouted out the order,

"Light your wands!"

Harry heard several muttered Lumos at once but that did nothing to penetrate the dark. He cursed. What was this all about? This wasn't Voldemort's doing. But the man was supposed to be here,

"Someone call Voldemort."

But the murmurs had died down and there was total silence. Harry felt as if he was all alone in the dark and he didn't like the sensation one bit. He turned to the fireplace again but as soon as he turned around and stepped forward he collided with someone.


	34. Chapter 34

Harry had his arms crossed on the table and his head rested between them. Who would have thought that he would end up here again? The portraits were conversing more like arguing over some nominal matter and that combined with the sounds of whirring emanating from Dumbledore's silver trinkets was beginning to give him a headache. Where was the old man anyway?

Harry felt his mind wandering back to Voldemort and the ministry. Would Voldemort have arrived by now? Had Dumbledore taken over the ministry? All he knew was that he had been brought and dumped here unceremoniously by Mad Eye Moody and the man had immediately vanished afterwards. Harry hated not knowing and he was hating it more now. He rose to his feet once again and began pacing Dumbledore's office. He had tried the door thrice now and every single time he had found it locked. He had tried the fireplace as well, which seemed like it had been blocked. This reminded him of the last time he had been here and it only served to fuel the hate that he felt towards Dumbledore. He was itching to destroy something, anything, just like last time. But, no, he would have to restrain the urge.

Being a sentimental fool would not get him anywhere. He needed to keep a level head. Playing nice with Dumbledore was the only thing that would get him out of here. He was going to hate it. More than that, he was going to hate himself. Sirius had died because of Dumbledore. If only Dumbledore had told him about the prophecy earlier, if only he had talked to him, supported him instead of ignoring him like an errant child.

Harry coughed and covered his mouth with his hand. He was glad that the portraits were leaving him alone. They were observing him but so far, they hadn't attempted to address him which was perfect because Harry was fairly certain that he would shout at them. Harry walked over to the golden post and saw a featherless baby Fawkes in the ash tray. He made his way to the Pensieve and observed the shelves full of memories. He felt curiosity burn through him and grabbed one, that seemed out of place, and poured its contents into the Pensieve, where they swirled and shimmered, neither liquid nor gas.

Harry bent forwards, took a deep breath, and plunged his face into the silvery substance. He felt his feet leave the office floor; he was falling, falling, through whirling darkness and then, quite suddenly, he was blinking in dazzling sunlight.

Harry spent the next few minutes, watching the memory, listening to the conversations and eyeing the characters with disbelief. Once the memory ended, he was soaring weightlessly through darkness, until he landed squarely on his feet, back in Dumbledore's now twilit office.

His mind was whirling, spinning out of control. It didn't take him long to put two and two together. That had been Voldemort's family. Some pieces were missing but he had no doubt about the fact that the girl with the lank, dull hair and plain, pale, rather heavy face had been Voldemort's mother. He slumped back in the chair and closed his eyes to rearrange the facts. She had looked so defeated. Harry nearly saw himself in her. Wasn't this how he had been treated by his muggle relatives? No, she had been treated far worse. And Tom…Tom Riddle had been every bit as handsome as Voldemort, maybe, even identical. His father. He had been his father. He needed to know more. Merope had survived and it was obvious that she had fancied Tom. How had they gotten together? How had they even gotten married?

What was Dumbledore even doing with that memory? The old man had no right to pry on other people's past. Harry had no doubt that he had been looking for a weakness, something to attack Voldemort with. There had to be more memories like this here. Maybe he ought to warn Voldemort. He had half a mind to steal them but the portraits were watching him and Dumbledore would certainly notice an empty memory cabinet. Why was he even thinking about his well-being? Hadn't he vowed to never return to him again? His heart was aching because Voldemort's pained expression kept flashing in front of his eyes. And now all this. He felt as if he owed Voldemort something for all the pain that he had caused with his words. Maybe this knowledge would settle the score.

He cursed himself. The last time he had been in this office, he had vowed not to feel. Dumbledore had termed it as his greatest strength but it had only been his greatest weakness, one that Dumbledore had exploited to the maximum. Harry rested his forehead against the wooden surface of the table. He had vowed not to return and here he was again. Somehow, he had managed to beak every vow that he had made to himself. His heart was bursting with pain and emotions and he was locked in Dumbledore's bloody office again.

He sighed, drew in a deep breath and began prioritizing his current goals in his head. His priority was to find out what had happened at the Ministry. Then, he had to get out of this office and this castle as soon as possible. Lastly, he had to return to Voldemort and warn him about the memories. Harry saw too many loopholes in his strategy. The major one being that he didn't know what Dumbledore had planned for him. What if Dumbledore decided to lock him away somewhere or better yet kill him?

Well he was definitely not going to die at Dumbledore's hands and as far as being locked up was concerned, he was confident that he could talk Dumbledore out of it. All he needed was to act like the victim and convince Dumbledore that he had been working for him all along. He had all the evidence to prove it as well, the biggest one being the interview if it still managed to get published.

He remembered the past five years and all his interactions with Dumbledore. Damn, he had been such a fool. He had played right into Dumbledore's hands at every occasion and his own obedience and naivety was beginning to disgust him.

The empty fireplace burst into emerald green flame, making Harry leap away from the door, staring at the man spinning inside the grate. As Dumbledore's tall form unfolded itself from the fire and made its way towards him, Harry rose to his feet and steeled himself. He wasn't naïve anymore. Things had changed. He had changed.


	35. Chapter 35

Dumbledore's face was impassive and expressionless and that irritated Harry further. But he tried not to let it show. Harry watched his gaze flicker momentarily to the glowing Pensieve and then back at him,

"It seems I was worrying about you for nothing. You seemed to have kept yourself sufficiently entertained."

Harry didn't miss the lack of emotion and coldness in Dumbledore's tone. He felt an uncomfortable sensation in his gut. This was not going to end well. He tried for an embarrassed look and was fairly certain he pulled it off despite the fact that his insides were burning up with hate and his soul was on fire. Dumbledore moved to the Pensieve and leaned over it to check what Harry had been watching. Harry closed his eyes and his hands clenched into fists,

"What are your thoughts on this memory?"

Harry opened his eyes and regarded Dumbledore with as much politeness as possible,

"I think that was Voldemort's family."

Dumbledore nodded without looking at him,

"What did you think of Merope and Tom Riddle, Voldemort's parents?"

Harry thought about what to say. That part had intrigued him the most and his curiosity was evident in his voice when he spoke,

"How did they end up getting married?"

Dumbledore smirked,

"Can you not think of any measure Merope could have taken to make Tom Riddle forget his Muggle companion, and fall in love with her instead?"

Harry thought hard. He knew where Dumbledore was taking this and he wasn't going to go there. He wasn't going to fall back in Dumbledore's web of lies. But he had to say something so he suggested,

"The Imperius Curse?"

Dumbledore tsked and finally turned his piercing blue gaze on him,

"Very good. Personally, I am inclined to think that she used a love potion. I am sure it would have seemed more romantic to her and I do not think it would have been very difficult, some hot day, when Riddle was riding alone, to persuade him to take a drink of water. In any case, within a few months of the scene we have just witnessed, the village of Little Hangleton enjoyed a tremendous scandal. You can imagine the gossip it caused when the squire's son ran off with the tramp's daughter Merope"

A love potion. Harry scoffed inwardly but it did seem like a viable option despite the fact that he didn't want to believe a thing Dumbledore told him. But there was another thing didn't make sense to him. Voldemort had been raised in an orphanage. Merope must have died but why had his father abandoned him. He could remember Voldemort's hate for his father from that night in the graveyard. He voiced that thought,

"And Merope? She died, didn't she? Wasn't Voldemort brought up in an orphanage?"

Dumbledore eyes twinkled with something. He was pleased with Harry curiosity. Harry told himself over and over again that he was doing this to get information but he was curious,

"Within a few months of their runaway marriage, Tom Riddle reappeared at the manor house in Little Hangleton without his wife. The rumour flew around the neighbourhood that he was talking of being "hoodwinked" and "taken in". What he meant, I am sure, is that he had been under an enchantment that had now lifted, though I daresay he did not dare use those precise words for fear of being thought insane. When they heard what he was saying, however, the villagers guessed that Merope had lied to Tom Riddle, pretending that she was going to have his baby, and that he had married her for this reason. But Merope was indeed expecting. Tom Riddle left her while she was still pregnant."

Bastard was the first word that came to Harry's mind regarding Tom Riddle. Harry was glad he didn't voice it. Voldemort's hate was completely justified. He forced his hands into his pockets to stop them from trembling in rage. He was hoping that his anger wasn't showing on his face,

"So, what happened? Why did the Love Potion stop working?"

Dumbledore's smirk widened but he made no move to reply. Harry had an inkling to why though. Merope must have stopped giving Tom Riddle the potion. She must have felt guilty. Well Harry wished she would have just fed him poison. He turned his attention back to the matter at hand. What had happened at the ministry?

"What happened at the ministry, Sir."

Dumbledore's smirk vanished and it was replaced by a grim expression. Harry felt triumphant joy fill his heart. The order hadn't been able to take over the Ministry. Voldemort must have arrived and thwarted their plans. Dumbledore stepped closer to him and Harry resisted the urge to back away. He waved his wand and conjured a copy of The Evening Prophet. He handed it to Harry and Harry turned it over and saw his interview on the first page. A quick glance told him that Rita had gotten it in print word by word. He made a mental note to reward her if he ever got out of here,

"Your interview turned out to be quite controversial."

Harry put the newspaper down,

"I didn't say anything wrong, Professor."

Dumbledore stepped closer to him and spoke,

"No, you did not."

Harry didn't miss the threat underlying in Dumbledore's tone and he stepped back despite all his restraint,

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at him,

"Take a seat."

It was an order and Harry was not going to follow it,

"I'm fine on my feet, Professor."

Harry retreated further back and his back collided with something. The chinking and clinking told him that he had hit the memory cabinet. A thought occurred to him out of nowhere. He had thought about stealing the memories. Why hadn't he thought about destroying them so that Dumbledore couldn't exploit them further. Dumbledore had all the intent to hurt him and if he was going to die, he might as well go out with a bang.

Harry turned around in a flash and brought his fist down on the glass cabinet, once, twice, three times before he felt a length of black rope restrain his wrists and ankles and he fell down on the carpet. It wasn't a graceful position to be in but he looked sideways and he smirked in satisfaction when he saw several smashed glass phials along with shattered glass from the cabinet on the carpet, inches away from his face and a haze of liquid gassy smoke. He was fairly certain that Dumbledore wouldn't be able to restore them. He was also positive about the fact that he was in for a world of pain.


	36. Chapter 36

Dumbledore waved his wand and Harry found himself back in the armchair. His wrists and ankles chained to the arms and legs of the chair. Dumbledore stood in front of him and began to speak,

“What do you know about training a horse, Harry?”

The question caught Harry completely off guard. Horses…. Dumbledore wanted to talk about horses. Maybe the old man really was going senile. But Harry was willing to indulge him if it delayed the pain,

“Nothing, Professor.”

Dumbledore smiled but it didn’t reach his cold blue eyes that were twinkling with malicious intent,

“You see, Harry. I tried to be an unconventional trainer. Do you know what the difference is between an unconventional trainer and a traditional trainer?”

Harry had an inkling to where this conversation was heading. He was the horse or at least that’s what Dumbledore thought,

“I didn’t know you rode horses, Professor.”

Dumbledore moved his hand through his long white beard and leaned back against his desk,

“Unconventional trainers take the approach of love and kindness. They let the horse run free in a pen. When he stops they signal the horse and if he stands they will pet him like his mother did, with soft body contact. When he wants to run away they let him run it out. When he tires of that he’ll come back for more petting. The process repeats, the horse learns to trust them and then they begin to work together in a positive relationship. A traditional trainer however does the exact opposite. He employs whips, fear, beatings that often end in sending the horse for slaughter when it is too traumatized to be of use.”

Harry tried not to afraid. The dark analogy was too true. Harry had no doubt that Dumbledore would soon be turning into a traditional trainer. But he wasn’t a horse. He was an actual human being and he wasn’t going to allow himself to be trained like an animal no matter what means Dumbledore used.

Dumbledore’s bony hand gripped his chin and forced him to meet his gaze,

“As you may have guessed, Harry. I am about to take the traditional approach with you.”

Dumbledore’s gaze went over the shattered glass vials on the floor and he tsked,

“You were such a good boy once, so obedient and so willing to follow me to the ends of the earth…..but now……your current attitude saddens me deeply, Harry. I never wished to instigate pain upon you but you have made it a necessity. I am hopeful that the pain shall remind you of who you once were and compel you to be that person again.”

Harry gritted his teeth. So, Dumbledore wanted him to be his lap dog again. That was never going to happen. He might as well clear Dumbledore’s concepts now,

“You’re going to be extremely disappointed. I am never going to be that person again.”

Dumbledore pulled his finger away from his chin and spoke,

“Well then, it shall be the slaughter house for you in the end.”

Harry laughed bitterly. He wasn’t afraid to die. It didn’t matter if he was going to die a bit sooner than later.

“How about you slaughter me now?”

Dumbledore had pulled out his wand,

“Oh Harry, trust me, I will. But before that you must make penance for tarnishing my reputation and destroying my greatest assets.”

Harry remembered what he had said about Dumbledore at the ministry. At least now everyone knew the truth but Harry doubted that anyone believed him. Dumbledore was an angel as far as the order was concerned.

Dumbledore traced his wand over Harry’s bloody knuckle and straightened his hand out to expose his fingers. Harry attempted to ball it into a fist again but some unknown force kept his hand outstretched. He knew what Dumbledore was going to do. He knew what was coming and his muscles tensed as much as they could.

The knowing didn’t soften the blow though. Dumbledore flicked his wand and Harry felt the bone of his index finger split into an untold number of fragments as his mind became inoperable. Harry bit down on his tongue to stop himself from making a sound. The pain took him, not far away, but deep inside himself to some primitive place that knew how to cope with the kind of pain that precedes death. His vision was blotched with violent colours that moved and merged without pattern or design. The wall of pain still crippled his vision but Dumbledore swam back into view. His face was just as you'd imagine it to be. He looked as if he were taking a leisurely stroll through the park or enjoying his favorite candy. Then he smiled in a small way and flicked his wand again shattering his middle finger. Harry let out a strangled scream and felt blood well into his throat from the tongue he had just bitten through in a vain attempt to keep quiet.

Harry lost count of his screams, he lost count of his fingers. He could feel his cheek getting wet with tears and he hated himself. What was he crying for? He had known this would happen when he had smashed those memories. Voldemort’s face swam to the forefront of his mind and he smiled despite the agony he was in. He had told himself over and over again that he didn’t care about him, that he felt nothing for him, that there was no connection between them and here he was now. Getting tortured for the man and still believing that it was worth it. It is worth it. Dumbledore would have tortured him anyway. At least this way he knew that his suffering was for something.

Dumbledore’s voice cracked through the hazy state of mind he was in,

“My boy, it shall give me extreme pleasure in wiping that smile off your face.”

Harry drew in a shaky breath and managed to rasp out,

“Do your worst.”

Before he knew it, his mind screamed out as the pain drove through his body. Every thought that he just had became confused as the burning pain licked up his spine like scorching fire. Searing fiery bursts of pain pulsated through every nerve in his body, intensifying with each dragging second, jarring and brutal. The pain amplified, his muscles quivered, his consciousness ebbed. Black mists swirled at the edges of his mind drawing him into sweet oblivion.

But Dumbledore dragged him away from sweet oblivion back into the world of pain. He felt Dumbledore grab his hair and yank his head back so that he was staring up into Dumbledore’s twinkling blue eyes,

“Will you obey me, Harry? I can end your suffering, you need only pledge your loyalty to me.”

Harry coughed and spat out blood at Dumbledore’s face. At least now he could cough out blood without worrying about Dumbledore finding out his secret. Dumbledore vanished the blood from his face with a smile and the pain began anew along with his screams.


	37. Chapter 37

Harry cried out in agony as soon as he regained his senses. He was mildly aware of the fact that he was laying on the ground. If the cold hard floor beneath his cheek was anything to go by he surmised that he was no longer in Dumbledore's office. He wasn't sure what to do about that fact though. Somehow, he knew that Dumbledore wasn't done with him. He tried to move but another cry, louder than before tore its way out of his throat. Every inch of his body was aching like hell especially his hands, which felt utterly useless. He gritted his teeth and attempted to move again. He was not weak. If Dumbledore was going to torture him, he wouldn't just lie back and take it,

"Harry, how are you feeling?"

Harry bit down on his already ravaged tongue to stop himself from making a sound and felt the metallic taste of blood fill his mouth. He continued his agonizing efforts to raise himself onto his knees and into a more defiant position. He would have never guessed that the old man was such a sadist. Well, he should have been smarter and guessed when that bastard forced him to return to his abusive relatives every year. Dumbledore tsked,

"It seems you have not learnt your lesson, Harry. I am far too lenient and it breaks my heart to cause you pain. I believe Severus can teach you better. Are you up for the task, Severus?"

It took Harry all his strength to keep himself on his knees. He wanted to retort. Dumbledore had been very lenient when he had been snapping his fingers or torturing him senseless. Oh, and the heartbreak. That had been clearly visible on his damned face. He looked around and took in his surroundings. The grey stone walls told him that he was somewhere in the dungeons. He took stock of his own injuries. Everything was aching so it was difficult to pinpoint which part of him hurt the most apart from his hands, he was very aware of the pain in them. He wasn't bound anymore and his legs felt relatively unharmed despite the fact that they were aching too. He could probably run. But he struck down that idea. Running wasn't an option. His body wouldn't be able to take the strain and he would pass out. Nope. He couldn't handle anymore disgrace. Snape's voice rang out from somewhere,

"Yes, headmaster."

Hate and enmity welled up in his heart at that voice, fury itself burning him up. He had to survive this so he could exact revenge. He wanted these two men to die the most painful deaths possible and he wanted to be responsible for it when that happened. Dumbledore was regarding him with an admonishing expression on his face as if all he could see was a disobedient pet and not a person he had just tortured brutally. Snape came into view and regarded Harry with his cold, black, expressionless eyes. His black hair framing his pale face. Greasy git.

Dumbledore flicked his wand and a whip appeared in his hand. Harry eyed it warily. Of course. He should have expected this. Torturing him with a wand mustn't have been interesting enough or satisfying enough. Dumbledore handed the whip to Snape. Harry saw unease flash through those black eyes for a second before it vanished and Harry told himself that he had imagined it. Another wave of Dumbledore's wand and Harry found himself naked from the waist up and strapped to a wooden post face-first with his arms spread and shackled to the cross section. His legs were untied. There was enough space in the position to squirm. He wouldn't. Where had the post come from anyone? Why hadn't he noticed it earlier? The cold air on his bare torso made him repress a shudder. He wanted his jacket back. His thoughts came to a halt when Dumbledore drew closer to him and tugged on his arms, and on the restraints, testing them and positioning his body. Harry had to force himself not to struggle against it.

Dumbledore moved away. His face had the hard, strapped-down look of a man resolved on a course of action. He took up a position against the wall in front of Harry. From this vantage, the bastard would not be able to see the impact of the whip, but he would see his face. Harry's stomach turned over. He felt the pain flare up in his hands worse than before and he realised that he had begun unconsciously pulling against the restraints. He forced himself to stop. As Snape moved behind him, he tried to prepare himself,

"How many lashes, headmaster?"

A small smile played across Dumbledore's face and his blue eyes twinkled brightly,

"I am not certain yet. I shall decide eventually. You may begin."

The sound came first, the soft whistle of air, then the crack, whip against flesh, a split second before the jagged pain ripped at him. Harry jerked against the restraints as the whip struck his shoulders, obliterating in that instant his consciousness of anything else. The bright burst of pain was barely given a moment to fade before the second lash hit with brutal force.

The rhythm was ruthlessly efficient. Again, and again the whip fell on his back, varying only in the place where it landed, yet that tiny difference grew to have critical importance, his mind clinging to any hope of a fraction less pain, as his muscles bunched and his breathing changed.

Harry found himself reacting not only to the pain but to the rhythm of it, the sick anticipation of the blow, trying to steel himself against it, and reaching a point, as the lash fell again and again across the same welts and marks, when that was no longer possible.

He pressed his forehead to the wood of the post then and just took it. His body shuddered. Every nerve and sinew strained, the pain spreading out from his back and consuming all his body, then invading his mind, which was left with no barriers or partitions that could hold against it. He forgot where he was, and who was watching him. He was unable to think, or feel anything other than his own pain. The only thing he could do was scream.

Finally, the blows stopped. Harry took a while to realize it. He became aware of himself in stages. His chest was heaving and his hair was soaked. He unlocked his muscles and tested his back. The wave of pain that washed over him convinced him that it was much better to be still.

He thought that if his wrists were released from the restraints he would simply collapse onto his knees in front of Dumbledore. He fought against the weakness that made him think that. His returned awareness of the existence of Dumbledore and Snape arrived at the same moment that he realized that Dumbledore had stepped forward, and was now standing a single pace away, regarding him, his face wiped clean of any expression,

"I can still be merciful, Harry. Pledge your loyalty to me and make this easier upon yourself."

Harry spoke. His voice sounded rough, weak, and barely audible in comparison to his screams,

"You are both cold, ruthless, sadistic bastards. Enjoy my pain while it lasts because I'm surely going to enjoy yours when the time comes."

Dumbledore smiled sadly and spoke in a detached voice,

"Your assumption that you shall make it out of here alive is absurd. And the fact that you are able to nurture such hope is proof that we have stopped too early. Again, Severus."

Harry tried to brace himself for another strike, and something in his mind splintered when it did not immediately come,

"Headmaster, I am not certain that we will survive another round."

Dumbledore spoke again in a cold, flat voice.

"I believe he will. But, even if he dies, it shall not cost us anything. He has proven himself to be a lost cause."

Harry felt oddly calm in the face of his impending death. Panicking wasn't going to get him anywhere and he had been preparing to die for a while now. He counted his regrets and strangely enough, his biggest one wasn't that he had failed to avenge Sirius. It was his words to Voldemort. He wished he could take them away but he was satisfied in the fact that he had done something to pay him back for the pain he had caused him. Dumbledore wouldn't be able to exploit his weaknesses anymore and he was certain that Voldemort would avenge him and kill Dumbledore and Snape if he ever found out about this. He surely would.

Lost to pain, Harry couldn't have said for how long or how many more times Snape whipped him, only that he did. When it was over, he was well beyond further impertinence. Every fibre of his being down to his core was being smothered by pain. Blackness was threatening his vision, and it took all he had to keep it back. He had stopped screaming or maybe he had managed to tear his vocal cords. His own stubbornness surprised him. How the hell was he still alive let alone conscious? Maybe it was Dumbledore's doing. He couldn't open his eyes but he could imagine the annoyed look on Dumbledore's face as he spoke,

"Still alive. You really are irksome."

Harry felt internally overjoyed. Dumbledore had really been hoping that he would die and he had eliminated that hope by stubbornly surviving. He commended himself and a weak laugh bubbled out of his lips. The sound reverberated through the now silent dungeon. It seemed his vocal cords had survived after all along with his humour,

"Watch him, Severus. I shall deal with him later."

Snape must have nodded because Harry couldn't hear a reply or maybe he missed it. He kept drifting in and out of consciousness. The shackles that had been holding him to the post vanished and Harry nearly slumped to the ground. Someone grabbed him before he could fall. It took him a while to realize that it was Snape…. Snape was holding him up,

"Harry, I'm so sorry…I didn't want to…I didn't think…"

Was Snape crying? Was he really apologizing? Maybe he had lost his mind. But he sounded different. Snape never used contractions. Before Harry could think anymore he was consumed by absolute darkness.


	38. Chapter 38

Harry regained consciousness, struggling and writhing. His cries were muffled by a hand on his mouth. He opened his eyes and saw Snape leaning over him,

"Ssshh, Harry. It's alright. We need to get out of this place."

Harry blinked several times to confirm that he wasn't hallucinating, that Snape was really talking about helping him. He was still talking different. Maybe it wasn't Snape. Or even if it was, maybe this was another way to torment him. Harry tried mentally feeling for his back. After the whipping he had received, he should have been screaming in agony now but at the moment, he felt nothing but a dull throbbing pain there which was bearable. The same was the case with his hands and the rest of his body. Snape removed his hand from his mouth gradually and Harry finally spoke,

"I…. I don't trust you."

Harry saw tears in Snape's black eyes. Maybe he really did regret whipping him,

"Harry, trust me like you trusted me before. I can take you somewhere Dumbledore will never find you."

Those words clicked in Harry's mind and he gasped. Snape caressed his cheek softly but it wasn't Snape, it couldn't be. Harry closed his eyes. Was Dumbledore messing with his head? Harry couldn't stop the tremors that raked his body,

""Are you scared? Relax. He'll have to go through me if he ever wishes to hurt you again."

Harry felt utterly speechless. Those were his own words thrown back at him. Shakily he attempted to raise himself into a sitting position. It was extremely difficult without his hands to help him,

"I know that promise sounds so hollow because I hurt you but I had to do it…If I hadn't done that…. Dumbledore would have taken you away from here and I would have lost his trust…...And if I tried to defend you, he might have locked us both up somewhere or worse."

Harry leaned forward and buried his face in the crook of his neck. No, this was real. It was really happening. Joy, pure and warm flooded through his body and he spoke,

"Rabi, stop talking. You have no idea how happy I am to see you right now."

Rabastan held his shoulders and made him meet his gaze,

"You really mean that? You don't feel betrayed that I hurt you?"

Harry looked in Snape's dark eyes and tried to look for Rabastan in them, it felt weirdly disconcerting but he was glad to know that Snape was still a greasy git. He couldn't help but grin,

"Yes, I mean it. I'm dying to hear about how you got here though and what you did with Snape."

Rabastan's characteristic mischievous grin lit up Snape's features and Harry's jaw dropped,

"That looks seriously creepy."

Rabastan laughed. Harry closed his eyes and couldn't help but laugh as well,

"Never thought I'd see the day when I would hear Snape laugh. Now I can finally die in peace."

Rabastan's laughter died down abruptly and he held Harry close to his chest,

"I'm not going to let Dumbledore kill you."

Harry was about to mention that he could have died from the whipping when he realized something. It all made sense now. At the end of the whipping he had wondered how he had managed to survive it with his senses intact. He had thought it had been Dumbledore's doing. It was Rabastan. It had been Rabastan. He owed him a lot. Rabastan gently spoke in his ear,

"We need to get moving. I applied some healing salve on your back and gave you a couple of pain relief potions along with dittany. Couldn't do much for your hands but I guess the potion is working for them too. It'll last for an hour, more or less. Can you get up?"

Rabastan supported him and despite the weakness, Harry managed to get up on his feet. Rabastan released him slowly so that Harry could support his own weight. He managed it after a few tries. Rabastan waved his wand and Harry found himself dressed up in a pair of black robes. He pulled out a small glass phial from inside his pockets and held it to Harry,

"You need to drink that. We don't want anyone to recognize you now, do we?"

Harry realized it was Polyjuice potion,

"Who should I expect to turn into?"

Rabastan snickered,

"Why don't you find out?"

Harry observed the potion closely, it didn't look bad or smell bad so it probably belonged to someone good. He downed the contents of the phial in one. It didn't taste bad either. Immediately, his insides started writhing as though he'd just swallowed live snakes. He doubled up and wondered whether he was going to be sick. Then a burning sensation spread rapidly from his stomach to the very ends of his fingers and toes. Harry gasped and nearly went down on all fours but Rabastan held him up. Harry couldn't stand the horrible melting feeling, as the skin all over his body bubbled like hot wax, and before his eyes, his hands began to grow slimmer, more feminine, the fingers lengthened. His shoulders and waist grew trimmer as he grew taller. Harry closed his eyes and a prickling on his forehead told him that hair was creeping down towards his eyebrows and past his shoulders.

He opened his eyes, looked down at himself and nearly squealed in shock. Rabastan broke out in raucous laughter and Harry could only seethe,

"This settles all my previous debts to you."

Rabastan just nodded his head, his body trembling with the effort to keep his laugher at bay,

"I have to say, you look far prettier as yourself though."

Harry shuddered involuntarily as he caught another glance at his body,

"Mirror, NOW!"

Rabastan conjured a mirror and held it up for Harry. Harry gasped when he caught sight of his face and bubble-gum pink hair. Very aware of the fact that he wasn't supposed to yell, he spoke out,

"You turned me into Tonks! You couldn't find anyone else to grab hair from?"

Rabastan broke into another fit of laughter. Harry scoffed and turned his back to Rabastan,

"Seriously, Rabi. If you're done admiring me, we should go."

Rabastan wiped tears from his eyes and pulled away his glasses,

"How is your vision?"

Harry looked around,

"It's perfect."

This was about the only perk of being Tonks though. Rabastan was still grinning ear to ear and it looked extremely insane on Snape's face. Harry growled,

"Cut it out."

Rabastan's expression immediately grew serious,

"You're right. We're running out of time."

Rabastan began walking. Harry followed suite,

"We're going to use the secret passageway on the mirror behind the fourth floor."

Harry yelped,

"Wrong plan. It caved in."

Rabastan continued to walk,

"Really? It's supposed to be caved in? That makes it all the more better."

They managed to reach the fourth floor without encountering anyone and Harry felt extremely sceptical about that. Their luck couldn't be that good. Any minute now something bad was going to happen. Dumbledore was going to find them and torture them both. Harry shook his head as he saw Rabastan melt through the mirror and vanish. He hurried after him and looked around. The passageway was different from all the others, very roomy and wide. Rabastan was moving fast through it and Harry had to run to catch up to him which turned out to be terrible for his back. He had to take the support of the wall to stop himself from keeling over in pain. Rabastan jogged back to him and hugged him close,

"I'm so sorry. I didn't realize I was going too fast."

Harry instantly pushed away from him and blushed,

"You have no idea how awkward that felt with this body."

Rabastan grinned again and wrapped an arm around his waist,

"I'm really not into women. But I can make an exception for you right now."

Harry bumped his shoulder with his,

"You're really enjoying my misery, aren't you?"

Rabastan instantly pulled away his arm from around his waist and his expression grew solemn,

"No, Harry. I'm sorry if I made you feel that way."

Harry shook his head, leaned against him and batted his, well, Tonks long eyelashes up at him,

"Awww Rabi. Don't be like that."

Harry offered him a crooked grin and then continued,

"I love tall, dark, brooding greasy gits like you."

Rabastan's grin returned and his arm returned around his waist,

"You definitely know how to make a man long for you. Let's get you out of here."

After several twists and turns and what felt like hours, they reached the end of the passageway. Harry's legs were about ready to give out and the pain in his back and hands was slowly building up. Rabastan noticed his discomfort and tightened his hold around his waist,

"Just a little longer, Harry."

Rabastan waved his wand at the exit and it flew open, revealing a storeroom, filled with boxes of all shapes and sizes,

"Where are we?"

They managed to sneak out of the storeroom and Harry found himself in a familiar place. At least two to three hundred owls hooted down at him from colour-coded shelves. They exited the Hogsmeade Post office. Once outside, Rabastan took his arm in his tightly,

"Have you ever experienced side along apparition before?"

Harry had no idea what it was and shook his head,

"Well you might feel a little queasy then."

Rabastan's grip tightened on his arm and Harry felt the familiar constricted feeling that he had only experienced once before with Voldemort.


	39. Chapter 39

Harry came to his senses screaming. He felt someone holding him down but he didn't have the mental capacity to care about who it was. He just wanted to jump out of his skin, anything to escape the pain. It only took a few minutes of frantic struggling for Harry's body to tire out and grow still, and his voice to grow hoarse and then silent. Rabastan's voice finally managed to penetrate through the pain induced haze,

"Harry, it's alright. You're safe."

Harry could only groan weakly as he took in his surroundings. He was lying face down on a bed. There was no doubt that he was back in Rabastan's place in Knockturn Alley. It was a miracle that they had managed to escape from Hogwarts. It was an even bigger miracle that he was able to walk out of there on his feet. He was burning for whatever pain relief potions Rabastan had fed him earlier. His back felt like it had been sliced open which was probably true. He considered it a small feat when he managed to croak out,

"Rabi…..potion….."

Harry closed his eyes and felt Rabastan's finger comb through his hair,

"I wish I could, Harry, but I can't. Too much of it will get you addicted to it. I already feel guilty about the amount I fed you in Hogwarts to get you back on your feet."

Harry tried to curl his fingers and grab the covers as he was consumed by another wave of pain, only to be greeted by brutal agony, that pushed away all coherent thoughts out of his mind. He didn't know how he managed to scream out again. He was pretty sure he had worn out his throat earlier. Harry was glad he was slipping into oblivion. It felt like a blessing.

When Harry returned to his senses again, some lucid part of him felt as if he was back in Malfoy Manor, restrained to a bed. A little later, when he was able to regain some of the sensations in his body, apart from the mind-numbing pain he realized that he was indeed restrained. It made him panic and his body tensed which only brought on an onslaught of pain. Where the hell was he? What had happened? Rabastan's soothing voice managed to help him calm him a bit,

"Relax, Harry. I had to restrain your hands. You kept trying to use them and that was hindering the healing process."

Harry couldn't utter a single word. But Rabastan spoke softly, answering all his unasked questions and distracting him from the pain,

"You've been out of it for more than a week now. I was extremely worried about you in the start, you were so unresponsive. I was seriously considering taking you to a properly qualified healer or bringing one here but circumstances wouldn't have allowed it. You started showing signs of improvement by the third day. Your back's been healing well along with your hands. I have no idea what other damage Dumbledore inflicted upon you when you were alone with him. You coughed up blood a couple of times in your unconsciousness but that hasn't happened for a day now so I guess that is getting better too."

Rabastan paused for a while, running his fingers through Harry's hair, no doubt to check whether he was still in his senses. More than a week? That was just terrible and Rabastan had cared for him through it all. He was relieved about the coughing up blood part. Dumbledore had actually done him a favour by torturing him. Harry moved his head a bit and Rabastan started talking again,

"You asked me at Hogwarts how I managed to get to you and what I did to Snape. That day at the meeting, there was an odd kind of tension between you and the Dark Lord. It wasn't difficult to see that The Dark Lord was ignoring you and you were subdued. No snarky comments, no playful banter. Almost everyone picked up on it. When the meeting ended, I hung around outside your office for a while, waiting for you to return but when you didn't I thought you must be in The Dark Lord's office and so I reluctantly returned to work. About an hour later, I saw you coming out of the Dark Lord's office looking like death warmed over. I was about to chase after you when I saw that the door to the office was open and the Dark Lord was nowhere in sight. I don't know what made me do it but I went inside when I saw your resignation letter on his desk, I…..umm…. I sort of took it."

Harry felt partly shocked, partly amused and partly warmed by the information Rabastan had provided him up until now. How could he care about him so much when Harry had categorically stated that he couldn't offer him anything but friendship? He wanted to ask why and willed himself to talk,

"W…Why?"

He didn't like how broken and weak he sounded. Rabastan spoke again,

"I…..I didn't want to let you go. If you resigned from the ministry then that would have meant that you would leave here as well. I know it's irrational and I had no right but….I just….I've never had anything like this before. I never fit in with my family. Rodolphus was the ideal son, the perfect pureblood scion and I was supposed to mould myself according to him. No one asked me what I wanted to be. No one ever really saw me for who I was. I never had any real friends at Hogwarts as well. Bellatrix and Rodolphus fit in with all the other Slytherins in The Dark Lord's fan club, aspiring to be the perfect death eaters and I had to pretend to be like them. I escaped from them whenever I could. I discovered that passageway in my second year. It used to be my way out whenever I felt like I couldn't pretend anymore, whenever I came close to breaking. I've been pretending for so many years that I felt like I was slowly becoming one of them and then…."

Rabastan went silent. Harry wanted him to talk. He wanted to listen. He was dying to know what happened next. He had known that Rabastan was different the moment he had asked him out but now he knew what made him stand out. After a few minutes of silence, Rabastan spoke again,

"Then you came along, defiant and so independent. When you vanished from your room, I was really hoping that you had escaped from the manor. I didn't want to watch the Dark Lord break you. I felt like my heart jumped to my throat when Nagini brought you to him. You were bleeding out but you stayed on your knees, refusing to submit, as defiant as ever. I didn't enjoy your pain like they did. You made me remember that I was only pretending to be like them. At the ministry when the Dark Lord had you chained to that chair, you looked so relaxed, so carefree, so fearless. I was worried for your well-being, worried that The Dark Lord would torture you, but you weren't worried at all. And then he made you Senior Undersecretary, that was something none of us had expected and that's when I came to realize how obsessed the Dark Lord was with you. He adored your rebelliousness more than I admired it. That day when I heard about you wrecking your office, heard everyone talk about how insane you were, I felt oddly enraged and protective about you. That night I saw how you manipulated the Dark Lord, how easily you made him bend to your whim and made us all kiss your feet, even Bella. You weren't just fearless, you were powerful and The Dark Lord was intoxicated by it, by you. The next day, you displayed your first signs of weakness, when you broke into a coughing fit in the Atrium. But when the Dark Lord appeared you were back to your normal self and appeared as unfazed as ever. And I wondered how you did that. That night at dinner, you attempted to kill Bella and that was just…"

Rabastan paused and chuckled. Harry had forgotten all about his pain, listening to Rabastan's perspective was so intriguing that his mind was completely focused on Rabastan's voice, his tone and all the varying emotions that underlined it as he spoke. The fact that Rabastan had been paying so much attention to him even when he hadn't known him was astounding. He felt unworthy of it though. He felt like he didn't deserve all that praise. Rabastan didn't know that he was dying. Everything would probably make sense to him if he found out and then he wouldn't admire him, he would only pity him. Rabastan started talking again,

"That was priceless, seriously I wish you had succeeded in causing a little damage and the Dark Lord hadn't stopped the knife. Anyways there was something going on between you and The Dark Lord. You actually blushed for him. That made me add another one of your qualities to the already limitless list. You were beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous. I made up my mind to approach you. I just couldn't stay away any longer. The next day when you showed up late at the meeting, I saw bit of remorse cross your face when the Dark Lord showed disappointment. So, it seemed to me that you did care a bit about his wishes or at least you were growing to. After the meeting, I caught up to you. I half expected you to decline and you surprised me by offering me your friendship. It was more than I had ever hoped for. That day when I found you bound and gagged in your office, I was momentarily shocked and when you asked me for help, I felt extremely conflicted. I could finally be my own person or I could be what I had been pretending to be for so long. That disappointment I saw on your face when I was leaving your office made me decide to help you because if I didn't you would hate me and I didn't want that. I needed your friendship more than anything else. You were crying when I brought you the antidote. Seeing you so vulnerable broke my heart but the hope in your eyes after I had helped you was priceless. The Dark Lord tortured me later and that hope I had seen in your eyes got me through the pain. He told me to stay away from you but I knew that I would never be able to. I would gladly do it all over again even if he killed me. When you came to me that day, took my hand and told me to take you away, I knew it was all worth it. You were worth all the pain, suffering and agony I would ever have to endure."

Rabastan's voice was heavy with emotions. Harry wanted nothing more to wrap his arms around him and hold him. How had he ever wound up with such a wonderful person? Rabastan was outright amazing and he didn't just think that because Rabastan seemed to hold him in such high regards, it was because Rabastan had managed to keep his own distinct personality for so many years. He respected the man. He respected him immensely,

"Anyways after I had taken your resignation letter from your desk, I chased you down to the atrium. It was extremely dark and I don't know why but I was terrified for you. I ran into Snape. I know that because he cursed and I would know his voice anywhere. I was going to ask him what he was doing there when I heard your voice and tried to light up my wand but nothing worked. I tried to reach my mark but Snape tried to stun me, he missed but I was still knocked to my knees by his elbow. He didn't know he had missed. There were several cracks and I don't know why I just instinctively grabbed onto Snape legs. He apparated and we appeared somewhere. It didn't take me long to realize that he had splinched. I must have made him lose his focus. Anyways, it didn't take me a lot of effort to overpower him since he was already weak and with a little persuasion, he told me all about where you were taken and what Dumbledore intended to do with you. After that all I needed was some Polyjuice and Snape's robes. After ensuring that he wouldn't be able to escape. I went to Spinner's End to get everything I needed. I already knew how to get into the castle. The first person I ran into when I reached the castle was Nymphadora. I mean I literally ran into her and she fell all over me. Something just clicked inside me and I managed to pluck out some hair from her head. That was just pure dumb luck. I was just terrified for you and it took me all my restraint to wait in the dungeons. Finally, Dumbledore showed up with your lifeless form hovering behind him. I thought he had killed you, you looked close enough to death. I wanted to kill the old man right there and then but then you moaned and I regained some patience. That sadistic bastard lectured me about the greater good. About how bringing you back to the right path was important and torturing you was the only way to do that. He mentioned your mother…said how her sacrifice would be in vain if you weren't brought back…"

Harry wanted to shout out his protest but only a groan escaped his lips. Rabastan patted his shoulder and whispered soothingly,

"I know, Harry….I know. We're going to kill that bastard as painfully as possible."

Harry wanted to convey how grateful he was to Rabastan, for everything he had shared, for everything he had told him, for saving me and looking after him but his voice refused to cooperate and he felt frustrated,

"You need to relax, Harry. I must have given you a headache after all the talking I've been doing. But I just wanted you to know how special you are to me. This friendship means the world to me. I don't have to pretend to be a stuck up pureblood. I can be myself and you have no idea how freeing that is."

Harry shook his head. If anything, Rabastan's voice had soothed the pain in his body. He was feeling so much better. He was so moved by everything Rabastan had said, everything that he had done. There was no way he could ever repay him for all his kindness before his death.


	40. Chapter 40

It took a week more for Harry to be able to sit up straight without bursting out in screams. Now that Harry was finally seated up in bed, heavily leaning against the pillows, Rabastan was practically beaming,

"Harry, this is wonderful."

It wasn't wonderful. He looked down at his hands and frowned. Rabastan had tried every possible spell, every charm, every potion. His fingers should have been healed by now. Rabastan's expression turned grim and he cupped Harry's face gently, drawing his attention away from his hands and making him meet his gaze,

"I know this is tough for you, Harry, but I haven't given up, I'm still searching for a remedy. Something will eventually work."

Harry felt extremely guilty and couldn't bear to meet his gaze. Rabastan had been there for him 24/7 for more than two weeks. Every time he had woken up, every time he had fallen asleep, Rabastan had been there. Somehow, Rabastan knew exactly what he wanted and when he wanted it without him saying a thing.

Rabastan's eyes were bloodshot and he looked haggard. His usually slicked back hair were in disarray. It was apparent that he hadn't been getting any sleep at all. Harry finally decided that he was feeling better enough and he wouldn't let Rabastan take care of him any longer. It was his turn to take care of him,

"Rabi, come lay down with me."

Rabastan looked practically befuddled. Harry leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek,

"You've done enough. It's my turn to take care of you now."

Rabastan looked hesitant and confused. Harry just wanted to pull him close. He was hating Dumbledore more than anything right now because he was certain that the reason his fingers hadn't healed by now was because of that old bastard. Rabastan was wearing himself thin, all for him and Harry felt unworthy of his devotion and care,

"I'll get some sleep on the couch later, Harry."

Harry knew he was stalling and he wouldn't have it. He was certain Rabastan's later was never going to come,

"Get in. That's an order, Rabi."

Rabastan moved forward to help Harry lay back down when Harry declined,

"I'm fine, Rabi. Seriously, I'm sick of laying down, but you need rest."

Rabastan vanished his shoes and socks and got in beside him hesitantly. He sat there beside him for a few minutes, his body radiating uncertainty and discomfort. Harry decided to put him at ease,

"You're not resting, Rabi. Lie down."

Rabastan obeyed quickly and laid down,

"Close your eyes."

Rabastan did. He still looked uncomfortable so Harry leaned down over him and kissed his forehead,

"Take a deep breath…...Relax."

Harry was surprised by who willingly Rabastan was following all his orders. It didn't take long for Rabastan's expressions to soften and soon enough his breathing was deep and steady.

Harry leaned back against the headboard. He couldn't help but wonder what was going on at the ministry. Rabastan had told him everything except what was going on at the ministry and it bothered him. His gaze flicked back to Rabastan asleep beside him and he wanted to smooth his hair, or caress his cheek or do something. The man had done so much for him and Harry was unable to do anything for him. He felt so bloody worthless right now. He looked back at his hands laying uselessly in his lap and tried flexing his fingers but it was impossible to move them after the cast Rabastan had put them in.

His thoughts wandered off to Voldemort.  _Don't go there…. Don't go there_ …. He urged his brain but it refused to listen to him. Would he be thinking about him? Did he know about what had happened? Maybe he did…. maybe he didn't. Had Voldemort even attempted to search for him? He wasn't so sure about that. Why would the man even care? He would probably be happy that Harry was gone after what had happened. And in the end Voldemort had been the one to tell him to leave only to return when he had made up his mind. He wasn't ever going to make up his mind and he wasn't going to return. Besides he probably didn't even have an excuse to return anymore. Voldemort must have handed over his post to Bellatrix. Harry hoped the joy had killed her. He'd have to ask Rabastan all about it when he woke up.

Why had he even cared about Voldemort? He shouldn't even have been affected by the fact that Dumbledore had been planning to exploit his past. But he had been affected. Affected enough to put himself in harm's way to ensure that the memories were destroyed. Well to be fair, he had been in harm's way from the moment he had been thrown in Dumbledore's office. Dumbledore would have hurt him even if he hadn't destroyed the memories. A voice inside his head scoffed…. _yeah, but he wouldn't have snapped your fingers as a punishment for that_ … He could have had his fingers intact right now if he had minded his own business just like he was supposed to. Despite everything though, he couldn't bring himself to resent Voldemort. The man hadn't asked him to do it, hadn't compelled him to do anything. He had done it all by his own choice. The man owed him nothing and now Harry didn't owe him anything as well. He had settled their score whether Voldemort ever knew about it or not.

After an hour of sitting still, Harry began to get antsy. He wanted to get up but he didn't want to disturb Rabastan. The man was sleeping so peacefully. Harry tested the muscles in his back tentatively, a pang of pain shot down his spine, his body's way of begging him to desist. But Harry was done. He was done with this bed. He was done being weak and helpless. Harry pushed away the covers carefully and swung his legs off the bed. Slowly, gradually he forced himself to his feet. The pain returned tenfold and Harry nearly collapsed on his knees. He leaned against the side table, inhaled, exhaled and attempted to regain some self-control. The pain receded to a bearable degree and Harry decided to take a step. His body refused to cooperate any longer and Harry stumbled. He braced himself for contact with the floor but an arm around his waist held him up,

"Harry, you're not as discreet as you'd like to believe."

Harry cursed and attempted to straighten up,

"Sorry, Rabi, I didn't mean to wake up. You were sleeping so peacefully."

Rabastan was about to lead him back to the bed when Harry groaned,

"No, I don't want to go back there."

Rabastan didn't reply and instead began to lead him out of the room. Harry sighed out in relief. It felt good to be finally out of the room and on his feet. But he felt terrible about waking Rabastan. He finally asked,

"When did you wake up?"

Rabastan laughed softly and lead him to the couch,

"I woke up when you pushed away the covers."

Gently, Rabastan lowered him down on the couch and propped some cushions to support his back. Harry winced but the pain slowly began to dissipate,

"Why didn't you stop me?"

Rabastan sat down beside him and arranged his hands neatly in his lap,

"I know that you won't get better if I keep you grounded to the bed and I also know that you'll resent me if I even try. You felt ready enough to get on your feet and that was good enough for me."

Harry couldn't help but laugh,

"You're the best healer ever, Rabi."

He stopped laughing and met Rabastan's gaze,

"But you have to know that I'll never resent you, no matter what you do. You've done so much for me…..more than anyone has ever done. And you did it despite the fact that Voldemort would hurt you and he did hurt you. Rabi, I can't ever pay you back."

Rabastan averted his gaze but Harry didn't miss the tears shining in his eyes,

"Your friendship is my payment."

Harry looked away. His friendship wasn't going to last. He was going to die and their friendship would be over. Rabastan didn't deserve that. Didn't deserve to be hurt. But he couldn't tell Rabastan that because that would hurt him even more. Harry decided to change the topic,

"Rabi, what's going on at the ministry?"

Rabastan stilled and his expression turned nervous. Harry saw his body visibly tense up. Something was definitely up and he was going to get to the bottom of it.


	41. Chapter 41

"Start talking, Rabi."

Rabastan's shoulders slumped. He slumped back in the couch and moved his hands through his already ruffled hair and exhaled,

"Harry, things have gotten complicated."

Harry closed his eyes and made himself comfortable,

"I'm listening and don't leave anything out."

Silence ensued for the next few minutes and Harry waited patiently for Rabastan to get started,

"I wasn't there at the time so I don't know exactly what happened after I apparated with Snape but I heard that the order was trying to take over the ministry but their attempt failed because The Dark Lord made it there just in time. When I returned to the ministry everything was reformed. The Dark Lord had taken several extremist steps to ensure total submission from the people. Several known order members had been apprehended and.…."

Harry opened his eyes and turned to look at Rabastan,

"And what?"

Rabastan's shoulders were tense and he looked extremely pained,

"Most of them were your friends."

Harry didn't feel anything, no guilt, no remorse. They should have started being more careful when they had decided to follow the old fool. But Harry couldn't understand why Voldemort had suddenly gotten so violent…Well hadn't he always been so violent? It shouldn't surprise him and it didn't. It just made him wonder. Why had brought on this bout of violence?

"Go on, Rabi. Tell me what happened next?"

Rabastan stared at him perplexed,

"Aren't you…..I mean….they're your friends, right?"

Harry shrugged,

"I'm done protecting them…. I'm done being their scapegoat….I think it's time they learned to face their problems rather than hoping that their golden boy could solve them."

Rabastan smiled a watery smile but it soon morphed into a grimace,

"They've all been locked up in Azkaban."

Harry sighed and closed his eyes again,

"I didn't need to know that."

Rabastan cursed,

"Sorry, Harry. But you told me not to leave anything out."

Harry laughed softly,

"Right, I did say that."

Rabastan started talking again,

"The Dark Lord…...he…umm…."

Harry kept silent. He wanted Rabastan to speak on his own terms rather than forcing the truth out of him. Finally, he spoke,

"He doesn't know that you were taken by Dumbledore and tortured. According to him, you vanished during the failed attempt to take over the ministry because…."

Harry knew that he shouldn't but he was starting to get irritated by the pauses,

"Rabi, I'm not made of glass physically or emotionally. You can say anything to me. I can handle it."

Rabastan finally spoke,

"He thinks you were a spy for Dumbledore and you helped them in setting up the attack at the ministry."

Harry couldn't stop the laughter that burst out from his lips. That was absurd. It was more than absurd….it was downright ridiculous,

"Right and how did he infer that?"

Rabastan's hands balled into fists,

"It's that bitch. She's been feeding him all that poison about you."

Harry chuckled. Nope, Bella couldn't feed Voldemort anything. This was all Voldemort's conjecture. Harry had expected the man to be brighter than this. A spy…. really….and a spy for bloody Dumbledore of all people…. he'd rather choke himself. He hadn't asked Voldemort to let him live, he hadn't asked him for that post, he hadn't even tried to get close to him…..then why would he think that he was a spy? Rabastan's trembling voice pulled him out of his musings,

"You have to see this."

Harry opened his eyes and was instantly met with a picture of himself, blinking owlishly back at him from a poster. Harry's eyes widened and he yelped,

"That is a terrible picture of me! He should have used a better one. My first wanted poster and I look like a bloody deer caught in the headlights."

Rabastan frowned,

"Headlights… I don't understand?"

Harry sighed,

"It's just an expression."

Harry looked at the reward mentioned underneath and smirked,

"At least, I'm ridiculously expensive and he wants me alive. That should be comforting, right?"

Rabastan vanished the poster,

"You're taking this better than I imagined."

Harry couldn't stop himself from grinning,

"Who doesn't want to be wanted?"

Rabastan frowned,

"Yes, but The Dark Lord has all his death eaters constantly searching for you. It's the main reason I couldn't get a healer for you. In those initial days….when you weren't responding…I thought you were…..I thought you were going to die and I was helpless to save you because I couldn't get help for you. The Dark Lord would have found out…he would have killed you…and I couldn't bear that…..I just constantly hoped you would wake up….."

Harry turned to look at Rabastan who had his face buried in his hands,

"Rabi…. look at me."

Rabastan hesitated but looked at him, tears streaming down his cheeks, his expression pained,

"Take a good long look at me. I'm alive and well. I'm here in front of you because you saved me. I would have died. Dumbledore would have killed me and I'm certain no one would have known. You're the only reason I'm here, Rabi. You're the best thing that has ever happened to me."

Harry smiled softly and urged Rabastan to smile too,

"Wipe your tears away for me, Rabi."

Rabastan did and smiled gently,

"Is Bellatrix the senior undersecretary now?"

Rabastan shook his head,

"That post is still vacant. I don't understand why The Dark Lord won't fill it."

Harry had an inkling to why Voldemort wasn't filling it up,

"In the past few meeting, The Dark Lord has been undoing all your work on Muggleborn legislature. Next week he's going to announce The Muggleborn Registration Act."

Harry knew it wasn't going to be anything good,

"What does the Act entail?"

Rabastan hesitated before speaking,

"All Muggleborns will be required to register themselves. The registered Muggleborns will fill out questionnaires about their family history and then wait for their trial behind bars in the Ministry of Magic. While awaiting trial, they will be guarded by Dementors and threatened with the Dementor's Kiss if they resist. Trials are going to be held by the Muggleborn Registration Commission headed by Bellatrix, who will be assisted by Death Eaters and head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Yaxley. Those who cannot prove that they have magical heritage, in other words, any Muggle-born and potentially some half-bloods will be sentenced to Azkaban for having "stolen" magic. Those who do not register will be killed."

This was preposterous. How could Voldemort think like that? How could the man be so stupid? Stealing magic…...that wasn't even possible. If it were possible, there wouldn't be any squibs or muggles. Everyone would be able to steal it then. Harry felt incredibly angry at Voldemort for that. How could he undo all his hard work? He could do have done anything but Harry wasn't going to stand for this. It shouldn't really matter to him but this was supposed to be his legacy. He wasn't going to sit quietly and let Voldemort do this. He was just lost in these thoughts when another thought crossed his mind. Harry's eyes sat up straight and fixed Rabastan with a piercing gaze,

"You said you've been attending meetings at the ministry, Rabi. How have you been doing that. As far as I know you've been beside me all the time."

Rabastan cheeks reddened and he averted his gaze,

"Come on….tell me, Rabi."

Rabastan looked up and then pulled out something from underneath his shirt. Harry leaned closer to take a good look at it and realized it was an hourglass on a gold necklace. He would recognize it anywhere since it had saved his Godfather's life once. How Harry wished he could have saved him again,

"You've been using a time turner?"

Rabastan nodded sheepishly and Harry felt the weight of the guilt grow heavier on his chest.


	42. Chapter 42

“You’re not going to use the time turner anymore, Rabi.”

Rabastan opened his mouth to argue but Harry spoke again,

“This topic isn’t debatable. You’ve done so much for me already and I won’t let you do anymore.”

Rabastan looked dejected and that made Harry’s heart ache,

“Rabi, look at me…. listen to me…...I’m better now. I’m certain I can manage a few hours without you.”

Rabastan turned and looked at Harry,

“Maybe you can but I can’t. Harry, I won’t be able to focus on anything, knowing that you’re alone here. It would have been different if you could use your……”

He broke off in mid-sentence and looked away. Harry knew that Rabastan had a point. He was useless without his hands,

“I’ve failed you, Harry. I really have failed in taking care of you.”

Harry cursed loudly and Rabastan turned to look at him,

“Damn it, Rabi. You haven’t failed. Stop blaming yourself. Stop wearing yourself out for me. I don’t deserve it…......I don’t deserve you…..your care……your devotion…..You’ve given me more than I could have ever hoped for…..more than I can ever repay you.”

Harry closed his eyes, took a deep breath and then opened them,

“I’m going back to the ministry.”

Rabastan shrieked out,

“WHAT???”

Harry nodded silently,

“You heard me, Rabi. I’m going back.”

Rabastan jumped to his feet. A look of complete and utter shock on his face,

“Are you suicidal???”

Harry raised an eyebrow and spoke in mock surprise,

“How did you find that out?”

Rabastan stepped forward so that he was towering over Harry,

“He’s going to kill you. The only reason he wants you alive is so that he can kill you by himself. You won’t even be able to defend yourself.”

Harry smiled softly,

“Well he can certainly try. Besides, I won’t be needing my hands if he decides to kill me on sight, now will I?”

Rabastan bent over him and rested his hands on his shoulders,

“I don’t understand you, Harry.”

Harry couldn’t help but laugh. It sounded so similar to what Voldemort had said to him on the shore of that lake and he repeated his response,

“I don’t understand myself either.”

Rabastan fell on his knees beside the couch,

“Please change your mind. You’re not thinking straight.”

Another chuckle inadvertently escaped Harry’s lips. Why was this conversation so similar to his last one with Voldemort? Voldemort had been right though,

“I never think straight. If I did then I would probably understand myself.”

Harry looked at the pain and grief on Rabastan’s face and spoke,

“I would probably hug you now if I could. I really don’t enjoy seeing that expression on your face.”

Rabastan raised himself on the couch and held Harry in his arms. Harry rested his head on Rabastan’s shoulder and spoke softly,

“My bravery and recklessness; that’s what you admire most about me, don’t you?”

Rabastan nodded his head imperceptibly,

“I want to see that admiration in your eyes when I stand up to Voldemort again.”

Rabastan arms tightened around him,

“Right before he kills you?”

Harry laughed softly,

“Yes, if it comes to that.”

Rabastan shook his head,

“I can’t…… I won’t just stand there and watch you die.”

Harry pressed a kiss to Rabastan’s cheek,

“You will. You have to.”

Rabastan burst into tears and it broke Harry’s heart. He wasn’t afraid of Voldemort. He wasn’t afraid to die. But he was afraid for Rabastan.

“Rabi, he’s not going to kill me. I can assure you of that.”

He wasn’t certain about that but he needed to assure Rabastan so he could stay out of the way. He also knew that he was doing a terrible job because judging by the way Rabastan’s body was trembling, the man wasn’t assured,

“The worst he can do is lock me up, just like last time. But this time, I’ll have you, right?”

Rabastan looked him the eyes,

“Why do you even want to go back? There’s nothing but pain and death there for you.”

Rabastan’s question made sense. The Muggleborn Registration Act was just an excuse. Deep down he knew that his traitorous heart just wanted to see Voldemort again, just wanted to be in his presence again. He hated Voldemort…. hated the affect the man had on him…..hated the way he made his heart beat faster….hated how breathless and broken the man left him. But he couldn’t deny it. There was a connection between them, one that sparked to life whenever they were close. Did Voldemort feel the same way? Had he felt the same way before Harry, himself had quashed and ruined everything? Well, he had done the right thing. For once, he had done the right thing. He admitted that he could have done it better, perhaps he could have used some different words but he didn’t regret it. He needed Voldemort to hate him and despise him just like he was supposed to do. This bloody connection meant nothing.

“Does Voldemort hate me?”

Rabastan was momentarily thrown off guard by the question,

“What?”

Harry repeated the question,

“Does he hate me? The way he talks about me. You must have noticed something.”

Rabastan didn’t reply for a while and Harry was certain that he was thinking. Harry felt Rabastan’s finger rubbing soothing circles on his back and he let his head rest on his shoulder. Finally, he spoke,

“He doesn’t talk about you and he doesn’t let anyone else talk about you either in his presence.”

Harry was taken off guard by that,

“Really? He doesn’t? Then how do you know that he will kill me as soon as he sets his eyes on me?”

Harry felt Rabastan shrug,

“It happened during a meeting. That bitch was talking about all the ways she was going to torture you and eventually kill you when The Dark Lord crucioed her till she nearly went mad. Not that she was very sane to begin with. But you get the gist. I just wished someday he would kill her. Anyways that’s when he declared that _you were his to do as he pleased_ and _no one was supposed to lay a finger on you._ ”

Harry buried his face in Rabastan’s shoulder and laughed…. laughed until his stomach hurt and his eyes watered. He didn’t know why but those words……that possessiveness and obsession in them just made him feel overjoyed,

“Are those his exact words?”

Rabastan nodded slowly and Harry could practically feel his confusion,

“I don’t understand, Harry.”

Harry pressed another kiss to Rabastan’s cheek,

“You’re the one who said he’s obsessed with me. And if what you said is true then he still is.”

Harry could feel understanding dawn on Rabastan,

“But you’re the one who said it’s not healthy.”

Harry grinned against Rabastan’s neck,

“It’s not healthy that’s why he’s not going to kill me. He wants me too much.”

Harry should have been warned by his own words. A voice in his head kept screaming, _Don’t go back………...Don’t go back……...He won’t let you go again if you return._ If he had listened to that voice in his head from the start, he wouldn’t be here. He would probably be spending the rest of time he had left in peace and quiet at some secluded corner of the world where no could find him and no one would ever know about his death. But the fact was he didn’t listen to it. He never listened to it. The bloody Gryffindor that he was, he always listened to his heart and his devious heart was what had gotten him here.

Rabastan was still rubbing his back and Harry whispered to him gently,

“Rabi, don’t worry. Everything’s going to be fine. I’ll be fine as long as I know you’re safe.”

When Rabastan spoke, his voice was weak and hoarse,

“How come you never consider what I’ll feel?”

Harry pulled away from him and looked him in the eyes,

“I am considering it. I’m aware of everything you feel for me and that makes you all the more precious to me. I can’t lose you. I would tell you to leave all this behind and just get away from everything but I know that Voldemort will find you, he’ll track you down and kill you and I don’t want that. Can’t bear that. So, I need you on his side……because you’re safe there. He trusts you, right? And I trust you too.  You need to do whatever it takes to keep Voldemort’s trust, even if it somehow involves hurting me. If things get rough, I don’t want you to lash out and jeopardize your life. I need you to remember that you’re my way out. No matter what happens, you’re my way out and I’m counting on you. Do you understand that?”

He hoped Rabastan understood all that because the man’s eyes were expressionless. He was as still as a rock and Harry felt as if he wasn’t even breathing,

“Can I count on you, Rabi?”

Harry watched Rabastan’s eyes fill up with pain,

“You’re asking too much, Harry…...I don’t think I can……. I can’t…… Please don’t make me.”

Harry leaned forward and rested his forehead against his. Rabastan closed his eyes and tears slipped down his cheeks. Harry felt his heart wrench in his chest as he prepared himself to say the words. He knew it wasn’t fair to Rabastan…. knew it wasn’t fair to make him do anything but he was also certain that Rabastan would obey him no matter what and this was for his own good. Hating himself for the abusing the power he seemed to hold over the man, Harry finally spoke,

“It’s an order, Rabi. Stay out of the way, stay safe and do whatever it takes to keep yourself In Voldemort’s good books.”

Rabastan’s head fell in defeat and he nodded silently. Harry finally repeated his question,

“Can I count on you, Rabi?”

Rabastan nodded again. Harry cursed himself for being so forceful but he needed to be sure,

“Do I have your word?”

Rabastan finally spoke, his voice defeated and broken,

“Yes……. You have my word.”

Harry kissed his forehead and whispered against his skin,

“Thank you, Rabi.”

He paused for a while. Maybe he wouldn’t get a chance to thank him again so he spoke,

“Thankyou…...for everything.”


	43. Chapter 43

Harry cried out with gritted teeth,

“Oww”

Rabastan gently spoke,

“Just be still.”

Harry lay face down on the bed, shirtless, as Rabastan fussed over his back,

“Rabi, stop.”

Rabastan ignored him and continued to rub the salve over his back. Harry winced and bit down on the pillow to stop a cry from escaping his lips,

“I’ll stop if you change your mind about going to the ministry.”

Harry snorted into the pillow,

“Not going to happen.”

Rabastan continued with his ministrations and Harry bore them in silence. Ever since, Harry had informed him that he would be returning to the ministry, Rabastan had grown more caring. Harry hadn’t even thought that it was possible for Rabastan to care about him anymore than he already did been but he had. Harry knew he had been maddeningly searching for a way to heal his hands. And they had made progress. Harry’s bones were healed now but he still couldn’t move them. It was like they were paralyzed. He couldn’t even feel them. Rabastan had started changing the dressings on his back twice in a day and massaged his hands thrice in an attempt to restore some sensation to them but, so far, they hadn’t had any luck and Harry’s hands remained infuriatingly useless.

Another louder cry escaped his lips when Rabastan rubbed the salve into one of the deeper cuts,

“I’m so sorry, Harry.”

The pain dulled and Harry finally spoke,

“I really hate it when you apologize. You’re just taking care of me.”

Rabastan didn’t reply and started dressing up his back again. Once the bandages were firmly in place, he spoke,

“Harry, I still don’t think you should go.”

Rabastan helped him up and Harry sat up straight,

“I told you, Rabi. I won’t change my mind.”

Rabastan rose to his feet and opened the wardrobe,

“So, what are you going to wear?”

Harry rose to his feet carefully and looked through the clothes Rabastan had stocked for him. What would be a fitting attire for today?

“Dress robes. Preferably black and extremely fitted.”

Rabastan gaped at him,

“Really? I thought you hated dress robes.”

Harry couldn’t help but grin,

“Well I’m sure we can make them more distinguishable.”

Rabastan sighed and spoke,

“Okay give me five minutes. I’ll get you something distinguishable.”

Rabastan made him sit down on the edge of the bed and hurried out. Harry looked around the bedroom fondly. He was really going to miss this place. Well there was a chance he might return here but that chance was very slim and he was going to avoid it any cost. He was going miss Rabastan most of all. Even though the man would be there, he would be in his death eater persona. Five minutes turned into ten and then twenty. Harry was just starting to worry when the door opened and Rabastan finally walked in. Harry immediately jumped to his feet and immediately regretted the move as his every nerve in his back sang with pain,

“What took you so long?”

Rabastan dropped the bag in the doorway and made Harry sit back down,

“You need to relax. I wasn’t finding anything that would have appealed to you and I didn’t want to return empty handed. But I think, you’ll love these. I found them in Paris.”

Harry gaped at him,

“You went to Paris?”

Rabastan grinned,

“Oui”

He pulled the bag to him with a wave of his wand and pulled out a set of jet black dress robes. They were blacker than anything Harry had ever seen. The material looked like liquid darkness. He was tempted to know what the material would feel like between his fingers but banished it instantly. Rabastan rose to his feet and unfolded them. Harry felt the breath leave his body because they were beautiful. They were plain but elegant. Two intricate silver buckles on the chest were the only means to fasten them. The material changed to a dark green when it caught the light differently. Rabastan put them away and pulled something else out of the bag,

“I meant to give these to you later but I guess now’s a good time as any.”

Harry realized that Rabastan was holding a pair of black silk gloves,

“They’ve been charmed so they’ll act as your fingers when you have them on.”

Rabastan took his hands slowly and carefully pulled the gloves onto them. Harry couldn’t feel the soft silk gloves on his hands. Well he couldn’t even feel his hands,

“Just think about flexing your fingers.”

Harry did. He thought hard. For a moment, nothing happened but then his fingers flexed. Harry didn’t feel them move but he could see that they were moving. Rabastan’s face was radiating joy and Harry pulled him into a hug,

“Thank you, Rabi…...This is just………. It’s so….”

Harry couldn’t find the words. Rabastan rubbed his back,

“This is nothing, Harry.”

He let him go and looked at the watch,

“You have an hour before the Dark Lord officially announces the act, Harry. Would you like for me to help you change? Or do you want to practice with the gloves?”

Harry wanted to savour these last minutes with Rabastan and spoke,

“Help me change, Rabi. I need you close to me for as long as I can have you.”

Rabastan pulled Harry close again and Harry felt his tears soak through his T-shirt. He thought about rubbing Rabastan’s back and the gloves obliged. Even though Harry couldn’t feel Rabastan’s warmth underneath his fingers, it was still something. Rabastan pulled away and got to work.

Fifteen minutes later, Harry stood in front of the mirror and admired himself. He was secretly glad, Dumbledore hadn’t done anything to his face. He couldn’t imagine how difficult that must have been to conceal. Right now, though, right now, he looked like nothing had ever happened to him, that his back hadn’t been whipped to shreds and his hands weren’t useless. Rabastan fastened the silver buckles around his chest and the robes clung to his body tight down to his waist, after that they flowed freely around his legs. Harry couldn’t help but snicker when Rabastan tried to tame his hair and failed miserably. He sat him down and conjured a pair of black dragon hide boots. He was about to touch his feet when Harry pulled them away,

“No, you don’t belong there. I’ll wear the shoes myself.”

Rabastan took them, caressed them with his fingers and then kissed them. Harry groaned out,

“Rabi….”

Rabastan began pulling the socks over his feet and spoke,

“I have kissed your feet before. That night you coaxed The Dark Lord into having us all kiss your feet.”

Harry tried to pull his feet away again but Rabastan held on tight,

“That was different.”

Rabastan began pulling the boots up and started lacing them,

“It was an honour for me. It still is.”

Once Rabastan was done, he kissed his boots and got up,

“My Lord, you look absolutely gorgeous.”

Harry grimaced,

“Now you’re just teasing me, Rabi.”

Rabastan’s smile was absolutely beautiful and Harry was glad he’d seen it before heading to whatever Voldemort would do to him. He looked at the clock and realized he still had half an hour left. Rabastan got dressed up in his death eater robes and pulled on his mask. He conjured a cloak for Harry and fastened it around his shoulders,

“I’ll see you at the ministry, I guess. Be careful.”

Harry couldn’t help but grin,

“Careful is my middle name.”

Rabastan’s eyes conveyed his doubt perfectly and Harry just decided to reassure him,

“Don’t worry, Rabi. I’ll be fine.”

Rabastan nodded his head,

“The announcement will be taking place in the Atrium. So, you won’t have to move far after getting out of the fireplace.”

Harry nodded and patted Rabastan on the shoulder,

“Don’t worry. I’ll make my entrance as dramatic as possible.”

Rabastan sighed,

“Discreet, Harry. I said discreet not dramatic.”

Harry laughed,

“It sure sounded like dramatic.”

Rabastan shook his head and hugged Harry,

“Please be careful.”

Harry let his expression grow sombre,

“I will. I’ll be fine as long as you keep your word.”

Rabastan pulled away from him,

“I’ll keep my word, Harry.”

He pulled out a flask from inside his robes and handed it to Harry,

“Drink that right before leaving for the ministry.”

Harry took it and looked at it,

“It’s the antidote to Veritaserum. The Dark Lord might try to interrogate you with it again. Just drink it all. It’ll last a couple of hours.”

Harry nodded silently but before he could thank Rabastan, the man had already swept out of the room.  


	44. Chapter 44

Harry stepped out of the fireplace at the ministry with a deep breath. He had left the cloak on only because Rabastan had wanted him to be discreet. The Atrium was buzzing with activity. A podium had been set up next to the fountain and Harry figured that, that was where Voldemort was going to make the announcement. A crowd of people was gathered infront of it and Harry knew they were with the press judging by the cameras. Harry slowly made his way through the crowd. The hood was hindering his vision but he could live with it. He saw a group of masked death eaters next to the podium. He stopped in his steps. No, approaching the podium now was a terrible idea. Harry kept his spot, concealed among the media personnel and waited for Voldemort to show up. Harry hated waiting and he knew that Voldemort wouldn't arrive a minute before or after nine. Damn the man and his punctuality. Harry got tired of waiting and finally sighed out impatiently,

"For Merlin's sake, isn't it nine already?"

A hand on his shoulder made him freeze and Voldemort hissed coldly in his ear,

"It is ten past nine, Harry."

Harry stood still. Voldemort's tone was icy and devoid of any emotion. And the way he had said his name. Like it was bitter was on his tongue and he couldn't wait to spit it out. Of course, Voldemort would hate him after everything he had said but he hadn't been prepared for this. But even though he knew that the man hated him why the hell was his voice making his heart beat like that? He felt Voldemort's hand move up and grab his hood. Harry shook off his momentary daze and yanked himself away from him. The hood slipped a bit but he corrected it immediately and kept his back to Voldemort,

"You accused me of seducing you, didn't you? You said my clothes, my scent, everything that I did was so that I could have your attention."

Silence had fallen all around them and Harry watched as the people retreated to a safer distance away from him and Voldemort. When Voldemort was silent for a while. Harry continued,

"Well who's the attention seeker now? Everything you did in the last few days. This act, nullifying all my work and putting my face on a wanted poster. You wanted my attention. You were practically begging for it."

A curse flew past him, narrowly missing him and the screeching sound that followed it told him who had cast it,

"YOU INSOLENT BRAT! I'LL KILL…."

But Bella never got to finish her sentence because Voldemort's voice thundered through the Atrium,

"ENOUGH!"

Harry felt Voldemort's gaze burning a hole in his back,

"My office, NOW!"

Harry knew that command was meant for him and he shook his head,

"I'm not moving an inch from here."

Harry felt Voldemort grab his wrist and he attempted to pull it away. The hood slipped from Harry's head and the cloak dropped from his shoulders and landed on the floor. Harry felt Voldemort's grip slacken on his wrist, he took the opportunity and pulled it away immediately. He turned around and finally faced Voldemort. The expression on Voldemort's face was priceless. He looked so conflicted between want and hate, the look in those crimson eyes alternating between lust and rage. And then an evil smile curved Voldemort's lips,

"I stand corrected, Harry. You do dress to impress me."

Harry looked down at his robes and then grinned at Voldemort,

"I wasn't aiming to impress you but it seems you like what you see."

Voldemort took a step towards him and Harry took a step back,

"Nope, you're not going to lay a finger on me."

Voldemort disappeared and for a moment Harry felt completely confounded until he felt an arm wrap around his waist, while a finger caressed his cheek,

"You are in my domain again, Harry. I believe I gave you too much leeway the last time you were here. It is going to be very different this time. This time, I shall not allow you to run."

Harry struggled against him,

"Let me go, you Bastard. I didn't run. You're the one that told me to leave."

Voldemort's voice was way too venomous when he spoke next,

"I do intend to show you what a Bastard I can be."

Harry bit down on the inside of his cheek as his scar came alive with pain. He writhed in Voldemort's hold, trying to get away, but Voldemort's hold was relentless and when the pain ended, Harry found his entire body slumped against Voldemort and his head rested against his shoulder as he struggled to catch his breath,

"You didn't scream."

Harry spat out the blood at Voldemort's well-polished shoes and couldn't help but grin. He winced as the pain in his back started to come alive and he straightened up as much as Voldemort's hold allowed him. The death eaters were jeering for more and Harry spotted Rabastan amongst them quickly. There was so much agony in his eyes that Harry momentarily forgot his own pain,

"I want you to scream for me, Harry. Can you do that?"

Harry laughed hoarsely and shook his head,

"You have no idea how dirty that sounded."

The pain returned but Harry was ready for it. This was nothing. It was nothing compared to what Dumbledore had put him through. It was nothing compared to what Rabastan must be going through. He closed his eyes tight and focused on anything but the pain. Anything at all. He had expected this. Expected Voldemort to take out all his pent-up rage and anger on him. But what if this was more than just rage. What if Voldemort really did hate him? Well if he did then that was good for him. He could just ask Rabastan to get him a way out and he would get away from this place with no regrets and no feelings. But his heart refused to embrace that idea. What the hell was wrong with him? Was he really that desperate for Voldemort's affection? Harry's thoughts were tuned out by the sound of his own voice screaming. Oh damn it. He clamped his mouth shut but it was too late. Harry could barely move and the only thing that was holding him up was Voldemort. His back was bleeding. He could feel the warm liquid sliding down his skin and slowly soaking the bandages. Rabastan…...Rabastan…He had to tell him that he was alright. He opened his eyes and sought him out. Their gaze met for a moment and that was enough for Harry to reassure him. He let his eyelids flutter shut and spoke out,

"I screamed, now let me go."

He wasn't expecting Voldemort to relinquish his hold but the man did and Harry nearly swayed on the spot before he regained his footing. It took him all his strength and willpower to hold himself up. No, he wasn't going to fall on his knees in front of Voldemort. He turned around slowly and faced him. There was something in Voldemort's eyes…guilt…. regret…it was something along those line. Harry felt satisfied with it. The droplets of blood racing down his back were distracting and the pain was beginning to border on intolerable gradually. Getting the words out was more difficult than he had imagined. He didn't like his voice when he did manage to get them out. It sounded too weak and broken,

"If you were expecting me to break then I'm sorry to disappoint you but I've faced worse."

He wiped the trickle of blood running down the corner of his mouth with a gloved finger and then grinned as best as he could,

"And if you're done with your torture session can we talk about work?"


	45. Chapter 45

Voldemort regarded Harry for a moment. There was something underneath that cool, carefree veneer of his. There was always something and it astounded him how Harry always managed to find a way to keep it all hidden. This time…this time though he had the upper hand over Harry and he would know immediately if Harry attempted to lie to him. He turned his gaze to Rabastan and smirked,

“Rabastan, escort Harry to my office. I have some matters to tend to.”

Confusion flashed across Harry’s face for a moment but Harry was quick to hide it,

“No, I’m not going to your office.”

Voldemort shook his head and drew closer to Harry. Harry instantly took a step back and squared his shoulders,

“And I’m not going to let you pass that act.”

Voldemort’s gaze flicked to Harry’s gloved hand which had balled into fists. Harry’s posture was tense and he had his mouth clenched shut. Harry’s voice was weak but it could easily be attributed to the pain he had just put him through. But something about him wasn’t adding up. There was more than just defiance there. Harry’s body was screaming something at him but he was unable to understand the signs,

“Harry, I shall not pass the act.”

Harry laughed sardonically,

“I don’t trust you.”

Voldemort turned away from him,

“Rabastan, I expect him in my office upon my return.”

And with that he disappeared.

Harry stared in disbelief at the spot where Voldemort had vanished and drew in a deep breath. He felt Rabastan’s presence close to him and knew he had appearances to keep,

“I can get myself there. Just stay away from me.”

Among the catcalls and jeers from the death eaters, he began making his way to Voldemort’s office. He stepped into the elevator and Rabastan hurried in before the golden grill closed. Harry was relieved to know that they were the only ones in the elevator. He allowed his composure to slip away and slumped back against the wall. Rabastan immediately reached for him but avoided touching him at the last minute,

“Are you alright?”

Harry had his eyes closed. The pain was unbearable and it was taking him all his willpower to keep himself on his feet and avoid screaming out in pain. He nodded for Rabastan,

“Harry, is your back hurting?”

Harry knew there was no point in lying but he couldn’t tell Rabastan the complete truth as well. If he told him his back was bleeding, Rabastan would start fussing over him and Harry couldn’t afford that. The man sounded strained enough already,

“I’m fine. It’s just hurting a little.”

The grill slid open and Harry pushed himself away from the wall and walked to Voldemort’s office. As soon as he was inside, he collapsed in Voldemort’s chair and closed his eyes. He rested his head against the back of the chair and swung his legs over Voldemort’s desk. He had never felt more relieved to be off his feet. Rabastan’s presence in the room was amazingly comforting. The pain in his back gradually began to recede to a dull throb and the blood stopped flowing. Harry felt it crusting up on his back and just wanted to wash it away.

Rabastan watched Harry as he slept. He had dozed off an hour and a half ago but he knew that Harry had been in unimaginable pain before that. Voldemort appeared inside the office silently and Rabastan instantly fell on his knees. He was about to speak when Rabastan pressed a finger to his lips, signalling him to remain silent. He watched Voldemort as he looked at Harry and saw affection and fondness burning in his crimson eyes,

“Even in his sleep he continues to defy me.”

Rabastan nodded silently. It was what he admired most about Harry, his defiance. No man could have lived if they had even touched The Dark Lord’s chair and Harry was resting in it like he belonged there,

“Rabastan, you and I shall be having a tête-à-tête very soon. Some things have come to my attention and I can no longer ignore them.”

Rabastan’s heart was beating hard in his chest. Could the Dark Lord possibly know that he had been taking care of Harry? It shouldn’t be possible. But the threat in the Dark Lord’s tone was unmistakable,

“You may leave for now.”

Rabastan bowed his head, rose to his feet and left the office.

Voldemort watched him leave and turned his attention back to Harry. He had forgotten the intensity of the connection between them. He stepped closer and raised his hand to touch Harry but thought better of it and let his hand fall. He should hate him after everything that had happened, after everything that he had seen but he couldn’t. Every time he set his eyes on him, his heart melted into a puddle and all negative thoughts and feelings went down the drain. These past weeks he had missed him. He hadn’t thought it possible but seeing Harry now, he realized how badly he had missed him. Having him close made him feel inadvertently complete. Harry’s eyelids flickered and then they opened revealing emerald green eyes.

Harry blinked the sleep away and then focused his attention on Voldemort,

“Oh, hey. How long were you gone?”

Harry stretched his legs on the desk but showed no inclination to remove them or get up from his seat,

“Two hours.”

Harry nodded more to himself than to Voldemort,

“You didn’t pass the act, right?”

Voldemort conjured a chair and took a seat,

“No, I have not.”

Harry crossed his arms over his chest,

“I’m going to assume you’re telling the truth even though I don’t trust you at all.”

Voldemort raised an eyebrow at that and then spoke,

“There are a few things I wish to ask you, Harry.”

Harry rested his head back against the chair and spoke,

“Okay. Ask.”

Voldemort mentally decided which question to ask first,

“Where were you for the past few weeks?”

Harry closed his eyes and Voldemort’s attention was drawn back to Harry’s gloved hands as he flexed his fingers,

“That’s none of your concern.”

He wasn’t the least bit fazed by Harry’s reply. He had expected it and he was more than willing to play twenty questions with Harry right now,

“Did you return to Dumbledore?”

Harry’s eyes snapped open and for a moment he saw a mixture of pain and horror in those eyes but it vanished instantly and was replaced by indignation,

“I told you it’s none of your concern.”

Voldemort clasped his fingers together,

“This is how this is going to happen. I expect an answer from you and it shall either be yes or no. There is no in between.”

Harry held Voldemort’s gaze and spoke out,

“I am not bound to answer any of your questions.”

Voldemort rose to his feet, rested his hands on the armrests of Harry’s chair and leaned over him. Harry leaned away from him as much as the chair allowed him but he was trapped and Voldemort knew that Harry realized it,

“Do you remember our last question and answer session?”

Harry just glared up at him silently. So, he spoke again,

“Do not make me bind you because you are well aware of the fact that I am perfectly capable of it. Yes or no, Harry. Do you understand that?”

Harry nodded his head resentfully and looked away.


	46. Chapter 46

Voldemort retook his seat and Harry closed his eyes. He hated it when Voldemort was in his interrogative mood. Why couldn’t the man just leave it alone? He was itching for a shower. The blood caking his back was really ticking him off,

“Did you return to Dumbledore?”

Harry kept his eyes closed and his face as expressionless as possible. Why was that question so important to him?

“No.”

Voldemort couldn’t help but smirk. That was lie number one. He had expected this from Harry. He was glad he had his eyes closed.

“Are you a spy?”

He observed Harry’s gloved hands clench into fists,

“No.”

Harry opened his eyes and Voldemort saw his emerald orbs burning with rage,

“Don’t you ever accuse me of that again.”

Harry held Voldemort’s gaze just to convey how serious he was about it. He could bear anything but he wasn’t going to bear this bloody accusation.

The heat in Harry’s eyes made Voldemort doubt himself. He leaned back in his seat and spoke,

“All your actions point to it. It seems like a very logical explanation.”

Harry broke the eye contact and shook his head. He sighed heavily and spoke,

“You’re hopeless. Fine. I’m a spy. Now that we’ve established that. Can we move on?”

Voldemort kept his gaze fixated on Harry. He had expected this from Harry. Avoidance was second nature to him and that was exactly what he was doing right now. He was avoiding telling the truth.

Harry was hating where this was going. Why was Voldemort so determined on the spy angle? He couldn’t understand what had made him believe that,

“You said all my actions point to me being a spy. Tell me.”

Voldemort rubbed his chin and regarded Harry,

“We have already established that you are a spy. There is no point in discussing it any further.”

Harry practically growled,

“I deserve to know what made you establish that.”

Voldemort crossed his arms over his chest and smiled smugly,

“Now you know what it feels like when you do not tell me everything I wish to know.”

Harry looked away and spoke,

“This conversation is over.”

Voldemort chuckled darkly and rose to his feet. Harry stared at something on the opposite wall but Voldemort could tell by the firm setting of his jaw, and the tension in his shoulders that Harry would leave if he was pushed any further. Not that he would allow it but right now he needed Harry to believe that he was secure. He wanted Harry to make a mistake and prove his suspicions correct. This time he wasn’t going to force the truth out of him. This time he was going to be patient and wait for the truth to come out.

That bastard. Who did he think he was? Harry couldn’t believe he had gotten himself tortured for him. The man that was so determined to believe that he was a spy and nothing but disloyal. Harry wanted to tell him the truth just to wipe that smug expression off his bloody face. But, no, he wouldn’t stoop that low. He had only done that so that he could settle the debt. So that he could wipe away that pained look on Voldemort’s face from his mind. So that he could somehow repay him for the pain he had caused him with his words,

“What are your plans, Harry?”

Harry started. It seemed he had been lost in some thoughts of his own,

“Plans? You mean other than spying on you some more?”

Voldemort picked up a file from the desk and spoke,

“Yes, Harry.”

Harry smirked,

“Why didn’t you give my post to Bella? She must have been dying to have it.”

 Voldemort flicked through the papers in the file, looked up and regarded Harry,

“You did not resign. I knew you would return.”

Harry instantly opened his mouth to protest,

“I….”

He stopped himself when he remembered that Rabastan had taken his resignation letter. Voldemort was looking at him expectantly,

“You were about to say something.”

Harry shook his head and schooled his expressions,

“Nothing. It’s nothing that concerns you.”

Voldemort resisted the urge to grab Harry and just torture the truth out of him. He cursed whatever thought had made Harry stop. He was testing the boundaries of his patience. Harry was a challenge. Everything around him had felt too easy, too dreary when Harry had been gone. It was good to have him back,

“You can resume your job. Unless you wish to stay here and do mine.”

Harry’s smirk reappeared and he made himself comfortable in the chair,

“I like your chair and your desk. Maybe we should switch offices.”

Voldemort stalked closer to Harry and Harry’s smirk widened,

“Perhaps we can share. You can sit in my lap. I am sure you will find it more comfortable.”

Harry swung his legs off the desk and rose to his feet steadily. He rested his hand on Voldemort’s cheek. His heart lurched painfully in his chest when he couldn’t feel him. He craved it. Craved to feel Voldemort’s skin under his fingers. He tried not to let the pain show in his eyes. Tried not to let his longing display itself and spoke out, 

“You haven’t stopped fantasizing about me.”

Harry was about to pull away his hand when Voldemort rested his hand on top of his and Harry felt his heart bleed. He couldn’t feel it. Couldn’t feel Voldemort’s touch on his hand at all. He needed it desperately. Harry shook away the thoughts. He didn’t need it. This was good. Harry attempted to pull away his hand but Voldemort refused to let it go,

“Did you think about it, Harry?”

Harry looked up and met Voldemort’s crimson gaze. There was hope there,

“Think about what?”

Voldemort took Harry’s hand in his and brought it close to his lips. He pressed a kiss to the gloved surface and whispered gently,

“Did you think about what you want, Harry?”

Harry’s gaze was fixed on Voldemort’s lips against his gloved hand. It was agonizing. Voldemort’s touch, his kiss had used to make sparks fly throughout his body. They had made him soar but today he could only watch helplessly as they made him feel hollow and numb,

“Yes, I thought about it.”

Voldemort pressed another kiss,

“And what do you want, Harry?”

Everything inside Harry was screaming. This was way worse than Dumbledore had done to him. It was way worse than kind of physical or emotional pain. The longing was killing him. The desire was burning him alive but he couldn’t say anything. He couldn’t give it away. Harry’s mind went back to the time when he had thought he would die from the whipping. His one and only regret had been the words he had said to Voldemort. He had wanted to take them away. Now…Now was the perfect time to take them away,

“You have something that belongs to me.”

Voldemort looked puzzled. Harry held his gaze,

“My words. The words I said to you that day. I want them back.”

Voldemort’s frown deepened and Harry leaned forward,

“I want them back. Give them back, you Bastard.”

Voldemort grip tightened on Harry’s hand and he drew closer to him. Harry could feel his warm breath ghosting over his lips and he knew Voldemort could feel the same. The hope in Voldemort’s eye shone brighter and Harry felt like a monster then,

“Why do you want them back?”

Harry kept his gaze fixed on Voldemort’s and spoke as scornfully as possible,

“Because I don’t want you to have anything that belongs to me.”

Harry saw the hope shatter in Voldemort’s eyes. He practically heard it. But Voldemort’s hope wasn’t the only thing that had shattered. Harry felt his heart shatter with it. A moment passed in which neither Harry nor Voldemort breathed. Finally, Voldemort parted his lips and spoke,

“Take them then.”

Voldemort’s voice was barely above a whisper. Harry bridged the few inches gap between them quickly and claimed Voldemort’s lips. Harry wasn’t prepared for the maelstrom of sensations that hit him all at once. His lips felt on fire, Warmth spread throughout his entire body and every nerve in his body danced with joy at the reunion. He was addicted. Harry felt like he couldn't bear not to be with Voldemort. He felt like he wouldn’t be able to breathe without him. The kiss was his salvation and his torment. He was certain that he would die with the memory of this kiss on his lips. Harry let his other arm wrap around Voldemort’s waist and deepened the kiss. He felt Voldemort’s hand on his shoulder, steadying him. At that moment, he knew that if he lost Voldemort he would lose himself. He was the half that made him whole.

When Harry finally pulled back, he realized that his cheeks were wet with tears. He ducked his head instantly so that Voldemort wouldn’t see them. He couldn’t look up at Voldemort and meet his gaze because he knew what he would find. He turned his back to him and asked,

“Can you do me a favour?”

Voldemort didn’t reply. Harry didn’t expect him to. Suddenly he felt Voldemort’s fingers wrap around his throat. He stood still. If Voldemort wanted to kill him then he wasn’t going to struggle. He wasn’t going to fight it. After what he had just done, he deserved to die. But Voldemort’s fingers didn’t tighten around his throat. They just held him,

“What more do you want, Harry?”

Harry closed his eyes tightly and spoke,

“Hate me. I want you to hate me.”

Voldemort’s fingers vanished from around his neck and Harry gasped when he felt Voldemort’s warm lips replace them. He felt rather than heard Voldemort murmur against his skin,

“Never.”


	47. Chapter 47

Voldemort’s lips didn’t leave his neck, instead they moved up to the sensitive skin underneath his jaw. Harry’s eyes fluttered shut. He should step away. He had to get away from Voldemort. But Harry couldn’t. No matter how hard his mind tried to make his body move, it didn’t. Voldemort’s lips were smouldering hot, burning his skin and Harry found every sensible thought leave his mind. He couldn’t feel anything that wasn’t Voldemort. His hands balled into fists and he bit his lower lip to stop himself from moaning out. It was too much. The pleasure spreading from his neck and coursing through his blood was way too much. He arched his head back unconsciously, giving Voldemort better access to his neck and Voldemort took advantage of it immediately. Harry couldn’t hold back the moan that slipped past his lips when Voldemort’s kiss on his neck grew rough and aggressive. Just when Harry felt like his legs would give out underneath him, Voldemort wrapped an arm around his waist and resumed the onslaught of pleasure on his neck.

When Voldemort pulled away, Harry’s entire body protested against the loss. He drew in several deep breaths in an attempt to clear his head. What had just happened? How could he have been so bloody thoughtless? Hating himself he took a step away from Voldemort and unconsciously reached up to the spot, Voldemort had kissed. As soon his gloved fingers brushed it, he hissed out in pain. Oh, something was wrong. He spun around and saw a truly demonic grin plastered on Voldemort’s face. It didn’t take long for Harry to put two and two together. Heat rushed up to his cheeks but he ignored it and gritted out,

“What did you just do to me?”

Harry hadn’t thought that Voldemort’s smirk could get any wider but it did,

“See for yourself, Harry.”

He conjured a mirror and held it out to him. Harry snatched it from his hand and looked at his reflection in it. A dark reddish, purple bruise stood out starkly over the pale skin of his neck, just above his collar, his lower lip was swollen and bleeding where he had bit into it. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were sparkling. Overall, he looked debauched. He felt oddly fascinated by the bruise on his neck. It was beautiful in a weird kind of way and Harry found himself cherishing it because Voldemort had left it on him as a mark of ownership. But he couldn’t let Voldemort know that. He thrust the mirror back in Voldemort’s hands and practically growled,

“You bloody bastard.”

Voldemort vanished the mirror and casually leaned against the desk,

“You did not want me to have anything that belongs to you. That bruise on your neck, that’s my mark because you belong to me whether you want to or not.”

Harry didn’t know why his heart just fluttered at that declaration. He turned his back to Voldemort not wanting him to see how moved he was by his statement,

“Fine. Have it your way.”

He was about to step out the door when Voldemort spoke,

“A delegation from the Vampires shall be visiting tonight. I expect you to be present.”

Harry spat out sarcastically as he stepped out of the office and signalled towards his neck,

“Oh goodie. I’m sure they’ll be proud of your work.”

He made his way back to his office. He received several incredulous glares by the death eaters in the corridor but he was way beyond caring. The office was exactly how he had left it. He summoned Bellatrix and settled down in his seat. He needed a shower before he met the Vampires tonight. They could probably smell his blood on him. Harry had almost been hoping that Bella wouldn’t come but when his door burst open and she stepped in. The expression on her face was of pure malice and rage. Harry couldn’t help but smirk,

“Miss me, Bella?”

Bellatrix gaze widened when they came to rest on his neck and Harry saw something akin to jealousy burning up in her dark eyes. Maybe the hickey really wasn’t that bad. He rose to his feet and stalked closer to her,

“Wanna know who gave that to me?”

Harry saw Bella’s eyes glinting with murderous intent but she remained silent. Harry realized he was enjoying this immensely and spoke playfully,

“He really missed me a lot. Said he couldn’t live without me…couldn’t breathe without me…He wants me too much.”

She was about to whip out her wand when Harry spoke,

“Don’t bother, Bella dear. I’m still your superior.”

He retook his seat and noticed how Bella was positively shaking with rage. She pulled out her wand and shrieked out the curse,

“CRUCIO!”

Harry ducked under the table just in time to miss it but the move made an intense wave of pain shoot through his back

“YOU ARE NOTHING BUT HIS WHORE, POTTER!”

More curses flew towards him, hitting the desk and Harry knew he wouldn’t be able to avoid them any longer. His back was aching like hell. Despite the pain, Harry laughed as loudly as he could because he knew it would irk Bella further. Voldemort’s cold voice rang through the room. The curses stopped and Harry went silent. He crawled out from underneath the desk and rose to his feet. Voldemort’s face was contorted with rage but Harry knew it wasn’t directed at him,

“Why don’t you ask him, Bella?”

Bella was on her knees in front of Voldemort and constantly begging for mercy,

“Ask me what, Bella?”

Harry sat back in his chair. Standing on his feet was way too difficult. The pain in his back steadily grew unbearable again but it was totally worth it. Seeing that look on Bella’s face was totally worth it.  Harry could feel fresh droplets of blood rolling down his back and getting soaked in the bandages. It made him wonder how he was still able to function normally? Voldemort roared out,

“ASK ME WHAT???”

Harry leaned back in his seat and drawled,

“Bella says that I’m your whore. But I don’t think it’s just Bella. I think every single one of your death eaters thinks that.”

Voldemort gripped Bella by the hair,

“Atrium NOW!!!”

Bella scrambled up to her feet and rushed out of the office. Voldemort turned to Harry and Harry saw his expression soften,

“It is your first day back and you have already stirred up enough trouble to make up for your absence.”

Harry didn’t feel like getting up to his feet but he didn’t want to prove himself weak. He pulled himself up as gracefully as possible and spoke,

“You started it. Now you get to bear the consequences. I bet you wish you hadn’t given me this hickey”

Voldemort narrowed his eyes and spoke,

“Unlike you, I do not regret my actions.”

Harry knew Voldemort was referring to what he had said that day and shot back,

“I took those words back. You don’t get to use them against me anymore.”

Voldemort turned his back to him and spoke,

“I apologize for Bella’s words and I shall make certain that she apologizes as well. You do not deserve to be labelled with such a derogatory term.”

Harry covered his mouth with his hand to stop the gasp from escaping. Had Voldemort just apologized?

“You mean you don’t want me to be called your whore?”

Voldemort turned to him and Harry saw his crimson eyes burning up with rage,

“Did I not mention that you belong to me? I shall not stand for anyone insulting what is mine and that includes yourself. If I hear that word on your lips one more time, I shall punish you. Is that understood?”

Harry smirked,

“What about slut, prostitute, harlot, tramp……….”

He couldn’t finish his list because Voldemort had his hand clamped tight over his mouth,

“THAT IS QUITE ENOUGH, HARRY!!!”

Harry was glad for that because he had really started running out of terms. He pulled away from him and walked out of the office casually,

“You can shut my mouth but you can’t shut everyone up, Lover.”

Ohhh Harry nearly squealed with delight. He was itching to turn around and see Voldemort’s reaction to the new nickname but he was afraid of showing his glee. It was purely ironic how the world’s most sadistic bastard had love and lover concealed in his name.


	48. Chapter 48

Harry was leaning against the fountain, trying to make himself appear as casual as possible. His back was killing him and black spots danced in front of his vision every once in a while. Bella was kneeling at Voldemort’s feet and for the second time that day, the Atrium was crowded by Death Eaters. His eyelids felt too heavy and Harry resisted the urge to let them flutter shut. He was aware of the fact that every gaze in the vicinity was fixed at him, or his neck to be more specific. Voldemort was saying something to Bella but Harry couldn’t make out the words. His voice sounded too distant. No, he wasn’t going to pass out. He just wouldn’t. Voldemort’s crimson gaze came to rest on him and Harry realized he had asked him a question but he hadn’t heard it. Damn it. Harry cleared his throat and spoke but his voice still came out too weak,

“Yeah?”

Voldemort cocked an eyebrow at him questioningly and then spoke smoothly,

“It seems you have not been paying attention, Harry?”

Harry’s vision blacked out for a split second and he willed it to clear. When his vision came back he saw a curiously concerned expression on Voldemort’s face,

“Harry, are you alright? You’ve gone as pale as a sheet.”

Harry nodded and spoke as indignantly as possible,

“I’m fine. Worry about your death eaters.”

Voldemort’s concern did not fade but he turned away and addressed the death eaters,

“My loyal followers, you must be wondering why I have asked for your presence here.”

He looked down at Bella and his voice dropped dangerously low but was still audible in the pin drop silence,

“Bella, tell them why you are here.”

Bella spoke something incomprehensible under her breath and Voldemort gripped her hair tightly and made her look up at him,

“Louder, Bella. You seemed to have no problem shouting when you were firing curses at Harry a few moments ago.”

Bella’s lips moved again but no sound came out. Voldemort tsked,

“Perhaps a little persuasion is required.”

Voldemort crucioed her and her screams echoed around the Atrium. Harry couldn’t help but smirk at Bella’s suffering. He wanted her to die. Please just let her die. He made a loud sound of disapproval when Voldemort cancelled the curse a minute later and turned to look at Harry with a smirk on his face,

“What did you call Harry, Bella.”

Bella coughed and rasped out,

“I called him a…”

Voldemort laughed harshly and tugged on her hair,

“Out with it.”

Bella cleared her throat and spoke,

“I called him a who……”

Voldemort had struck Bella hard across the face and the sound echoed through the Atrium. If looks could kill then the expression on Voldemort’s face was it. Harry looked down at Bella and was mildly disappointed to find her still alive. He gripped the edge of the fountain tightly as his vision went dark again,

“DO NOT UTTER THAT WORD AGAIN!!!”

Voldemort’s booming voice cleared his thoughts a bit and he couldn’t help but laugh,

“Ask them.”

He signalled towards the death eaters,

“Ask them that how many of them think that I am your whore.”

Harry saw most of the death eaters visibly flinch and laughed harder,

“They all think that in one way or another. Are you going to torture all of them?”

Voldemort drew closer to him and gripped his chin tightly,

“They are my death eaters. I shall deal with them as I see fit.”

Harry shrugged away from him,

“Deal with them however you want. I just want you to kill Bella. Are you going to do it?”

Bella laughed hoarsely,

“You can never outweigh my loyalty.”

Harry ignored her and kept his gaze fixed on Voldemort’s,

“Are you going to kill her?”

Voldemort stepped away from him and spoke,

“No.”

Even though Harry had expected that, it still stung him. He gritted his teeth and pushed himself away from the fountain,

“I’m sure my presence here is no longer needed.”

He turned away and willed himself to walk towards the nearest fireplace. Voldemort caught his wrist,

“Where do you think you are going?”

Harry jerked his wrist out of his grip,

“I’m not going back to report my new findings to Dumbledore, if you’re worried about that and I’m not vanishing. Just tell me where you’re meeting the bloody vampires. I’ll be there.”

Voldemort looked ready enough to grab him and drag him away from the fireplace,

“Malfoy Manor.”

Harry chuckled softly. Good. That was here he was going right now. He took a handful of floo powder and dropped it in the fireplace,

“Malfoy Manor.”  

He stepped into the green flames without a backward glance at Voldemort and vanished. He stepped into the living room of Malfoy Manor and brushed the ash off his robes on the expensive carpet. Draco appeared in the living room and stared wild eyed at Harry,

“You’re back?”

Harry ignored him and walked past him. He made his up the stairs to the room, he had stayed in when he had been here last night. He was aware of Draco trailing after him and asking him meaningless questions that he couldn’t focus on. He stepped into the room and slammed the door in his face. He pulled off his robes and placed them carefully on the bed. After that he stripped down to his black briefs and looked at his shirt. The blood had soaked through it. A few more minutes and his robes would have been soaked as well.

Harry stepped over the edge of the bath tub and undid the blood-soaked dressings on his back. Dropping them on the tiled floor, he turned on the shower and stepped under the warm spray. His gaze was fixed at his feet where the water running down his body turned from clear to red in the blink of an eye. Harry rested his gloved palms on the wall and drew in several deep breaths as the pain steadily grew unbearable. He opened his eyes and a thought struck him. He hadn’t taken off the gloves. Afraid that they would have been soaked, he brought them close to his eyes and realized that they weren’t wet at all. He relaxed visibly and leaned against the wall, better exposing his back to the spray. He groaned out which soon turned into an insistent cough. That was the last straw because he felt all vestiges of strength leave his body and slid down into the bath tub. Resting his head on the edge, he turned off the shower and finally closed his eyes.

Voldemort paced his office, burning up with rage. Harry was a bundle of contradictions and he couldn’t understand him. He just couldn’t understand him no matter how hard he tried. Harry changed moods faster than a chameleon changed colours. No, he’d had enough and it was time he got some answers. He snapped his fingers and a death eater came rushing into the room,

“Tell Rabastan that I wish to have a word with him.”

The Death Eater hurried away and Voldemort sat down. It was a good thing that Harry had left the ministry because he was going to have more than just a word with Rabastan. He fully intended to make that bloody traitor spill out all his secrets. The only reason he had held back up until now was because he was waiting for Harry to return and now that he had, there was nothing holding him back.


	49. Chapter 49

There was a knock on the door and Voldemort’s lips quirked up into a malicious smirk,

“Come in.”

Rabastan stepped inside and Voldemort could practically feel his fear as he took in the state of the office. Voldemort had vanished everything from his office, except the chair he was seated on,

“My Lord, you summoned me?”

Voldemort signalled towards the ground at his feet,

“Come here.”

Rabastan hesitantly stepped forward and Voldemort’s smirk widened,

“A little closer, Rabastan. I shall not bite you.”

Rabastan obeyed and dropped to his knees right at Voldemort’s feet. Voldemort raised his hand and Rabastan flinched. Voldemort chuckled darkly,

“It seems you have quite the guilty conscience. What have you done that might warrant punishment, Rabastan.”

Rabastan shook his head and Voldemort’s fingers itched to torture him into oblivion,

“Confess or I shall force the truth out of you.”

Rabastan had his head bowed. Voldemort gripped his hair and pulled his head back,

“Look at me, Rabastan. Do you consider me to be a fool?”

Rabastan’s eyes met his gaze and Voldemort saw defiance in them, it wasn’t as strong as Harry’s and he knew it wasn’t going to be difficult to break Rabastan,

“No, my Lord.”

Voldemort smirked and tightened his grip on his hair,

“How long have you known Harry?”

Confusion swirled in Rabastan’s eyes but it was soon replaced by steely resolve,

“My Lord?”

Voldemort sighed and rephrased his question,

“When was the first time you talked to him?”

Understanding flashed in Rabastan’s eyes and he spoke,

“When he asked me to go shopping with him, My Lord.”

Voldemort kept a tight hold on his hair and caressed his cheek with his other hand,

“What made him single you out for that particular task?”

Rabastan closed his eyes and Voldemort shook him,

“Keep your eyes open, Rabastan! If you close them again, I shall gouge them out.”

Rabastan opened his eyes again quickly and Voldemort spoke,

“Answer the question, Rabastan.”

Rabastan gulped and then spoke,

“My Lord, I asked him out. I told you this and you suitably punished me for my error. I have not talked to him after that.”

Voldemort laughed darkly and then struck him hard across the face,

“LIAR!”

He released his hair, pushed him to the ground and rested his boot on his head,

“If you lie again, Rabastan, I shall crush your head under my boot. Is that understood?”

Rabastan spoke in a low, raspy voice,

“I understand, My Lord.”

Voldemort asked another question. He couldn’t help the bitter taste of jealousy that filled his mouth as the words left his lips,

“Tell me about Harry. What is your relationship with him?”

Rabastan was silent for a while. Voldemort pressed his boot down on his head. Finally, Rabastan gasped out,

“I don’t know… I don’t know him.”

Voldemort sighed in exasperation and spoke softly,

“You just lied again, Rabastan. Should I crush your head now?”

Surprisingly, Rabastan spoke,

“Yes, my Lord. My life belongs to you.”

Voldemort kicked Rabastan in the stomach and rose to his feet,

“Yes, Rabastan. Your bloody life belongs to me not Harry and so does your loyalty.”

Rabastan rolled over his back and Voldemort saw a trickle of blood roll down the corner of his mouth. He bent down and wiped it away,

“No, Rabastan. As much as you have proven to be a traitorous bastard, I shall not hurt you because Harry seems to care about you. So, tell me the truth for Harry’s sake.”

That seemed to have done the trick because Rabastan’s eyes displayed his indecision perfectly. He had broken his resolve just by using Harry’s name. Maybe he wouldn’t be needing Veritaserum after all. He pulled Rabastan to his feet and conjured a chair for him,

“Sit down.”

Rabastan sat down obediently but he looked uncomfortable and extremely thoughtful. He was curious to know what was going through his head but he knew that whatever the thoughts, Rabastan would tell him the truth. He crossed his arms over his chest and waited for Rabastan to decide. Finally, Rabastan spoke,

“There’s…There’s nothing for me to tell you, My lord.”

In the blink of an eye, Rabastan was on the floor, writhing and screaming uncontrollably and Voldemort was standing over him,

“Let me rephrase my statement from earlier. I shall not hurt you  ** _visibly_** because Harry seems to care about you.”

 He held the curse over him for a minute and then cancelled it. He kicked Rabastan’s breathless form over and pulled a vial out of his robes. Bending over him, he grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and emptied the contents down Rabastan’s mouth while he struggled feebly. When the vial was empty, he straightened up, dusted his robes off and pulled out something else from inside his robes. He held it out so that Rabastan could see it,

“Are you aware of what this is?”

He watched as Rabastan eyed the blank piece of parchment vacantly. Voldemort tapped it with his wand and murmured in a very low voice,

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

Instantly the contents of the map began to reveal themselves and Voldemort saw the confusion on Rabastan’s face grow,

“This is The Marauder’s Map. Essentially it is a map of Hogwarts that I retrieved from Harry’s trunk. But do you wish to know what makes it special?”

Rabastan seemed unable to reply so Voldemort spoke,

“Not only does it show every classroom, every hallway, and every corner of the [castle](http://harrypotter.wikia.com/wiki/Hogwarts_Castle), but it also shows every inch of the grounds, as well as all the secret passages that are hidden within its walls and it shows the location of every person present in the vicinity of the castle. It is a very fascinating thing, is it not? But it seems logical that Harry’s possessions would as fascinating as him.”

The confusion had left Rabastan’s face and it was replaced by fear and understanding. Voldemort smirked viciously,

“The day the ministry was attacked and Harry left, I checked the map and it did not surprise me one bit to find him in Dumbledore’s office. The next day, I consulted the map to check up on Harry and Do you know what I saw? Do you know what truly surprised me?”

Rabastan had his lips sealed shut but Voldemort knew he wouldn’t be able to hold the truth for long,

“What shocked me was your presence in the dungeons along with Harry and Dumbledore.”

Rabastan’s eyes were wide with astonishment and fear but he continued to keep his lips sealed shut. Voldemort bent over him and pressed his knee over his chest and his wand in his throat,

“How long have you been a spy for Dumbledore? How long have you been betraying me?”


	50. Chapter 50

Rabastan couldn’t quite believe that this was happening. He should have been better prepared. He shouldn’t have underestimated The Dark Lord. But it was too late now. The Veritaserum was already taking effect and in a few seconds, he would be spilling out everything, every little truth that he knew. The Dark Lord rose to his feet and sat down in his chair. The expression on his face was purely jubilant. Maybe he could run before The Dark Lord forced him to speak. He attempted to get up to his feet but the effects of the curse hadn’t worn off yet. His entire body trembled uncontrollably. He gave up his attempts to get to his feet and crawled away from The Dark Lord.

A purely evil smirk curled The Dark Lord’s lips and he laughed cruelly,

“There is no escape for you, Rabastan.”

Sure enough, Rabastan felt his back hit the wall and he knew…he knew he was trapped. Harry was going to hate him. He was going to hate him after this. Rabastan closed his eyes and his hands curled into fists. He was no match for The Dark Lord but he wouldn’t betray Harry. Not without a fight. He plunged his hand into the pocket of his robes to grab his wand when he realized that he didn’t have it.

He looked up and found his wand in The Dark Lord’s hand,

“Are you really that loyal to Harry, Rabastan? You would fight your master for him?”

Rabastan gritted his teeth and the first truth slipped through his lips,

“You are not my master.”

The Dark Lord chuckled darkly and leaned back in his seat,

“Very good. We are making progress.”

Rabastan could only watch as The Dark Lord twirled his wand between his fingers,

“Start talking, Rabastan. Tell me about the day you first talked to Harry. I want every little detail. Do you understand me?”

Rabastan bit down on his lip as the truth threatened to burst out of his lips. He felt the sharp metallic taste of blood on his tongue and the pain from his split lip forced him to let go of his lip and start talking,

“I asked him out and he said that you would kill me if you found out. Instead he said that he wanted me to be his friend since everyone around him despised him. I agreed immediately and he told me he wanted to go shopping and asked me if I wanted to come along. I said yes and he told me he would meet me down at the Atrium at six. At six, I waited for him down at the Atrium but when he didn’t show up, I decided to visit him in his office. When I went up, I saw him bound and gagged. I managed to pull away the gag and he told me he needed the antidote for Veritaserum. I didn’t think twice and got him the antidote. When I returned to my office after that, you questioned me about Harry and told me to stay away from him. That night, Harry came to me. He wanted me to take him somewhere you wouldn’t find him and so I did.”

The words stopped flowing and Rabastan realized that his cheeks were damp with tears. The Dark Lord however looked furious. Rabastan instantly felt the pull and soon enough, he was kneeling on the floor in front of him, his fingers wrapped around his throat, choking the life out of him,

“You bloody bastard…you traitor. I should decapitate you and pin your head to my office door so that no one ever tries to betray me like you did…”

Rabastan wanted to die. There was no point in living a life in which Harry hated him. He had betrayed hiss trust and deserved to die. His lungs burned with the lack of oxygen. His body’s natural survival instinct kicked in and he began to struggle against The Dark Lord’s hold. The fingers vanished and he drew in several deep gulps of air greedily,

“I don’t want to live. Just kill me.”

The Dark Lord laughed coldly and lifted his head by the hair to face him,

“Not before you have told me everything you know. Day two, Rabastan. What happened on day two?”

Rabastan didn’t want to speak, he tried fighting it again but the words still tumbled out,

“I got him some clothes and he came to the ministry. I saw him at the meeting and he seemed quiet so I decided to ask him what was wrong and waited for him outside the meeting room but when he didn’t come out for a while, I decided to get back to work and talk to him later. Sometime later, I found him coming out of your office looking depressed. I was going to chase after him but the door to your office was open and you weren’t in sight so I decided to check what had made Harry so unhappy. I found his resignation letter on your desk and I took it. After that I went in search for him and that was when the attack happened.”

The Dark Lord raised his hand and Rabastan felt relieved to stop,

“You mean to tell me that you knew nothing about the attack on the ministry. You did not know that it was going to happen? You had not been part of the plan?”

Rabastan could only nod but The Dark Lord growled,

“Speak.”

So Rabastan did,

“I didn’t know anything about it. I’m not a spy for Dumbledore or the order.”

Utter confusion flitted through The Dark Lord’s crimson orbs and then he spoke,

“Explain your presence at Hogwarts.”

 Rabastan didn’t want to because he knew what would come out of his mouth if he did. It was inevitable though and the words started flowing,

“I ran into Snape in the darkness of the Atrium and after that everything happened too fast. I apparated with Snape. He splinched and I forced him to tell me about everything that was going on. He told me everything Dumbledore intended to do with Harry and I knew I had to save him.”

The Dark Lord’s fingers closed around his throat again and his crimson eyes were burning with murderous intent,

“Are you telling me that Harry was kidnapped that day?”

Rabastan nodded shakily as his air supply was cut off again. The Dark Lord loosened his hold and Rabastan gasped out,

“Yes, he was taken against his will.”

The Dark Lord shook him,

“Why did you not come to me and inform me?”

Now that Rabastan thought about it. He really had messed up. He had thought he had been so clever with the Polyjuice potion but now he felt so stupid. If he had told The Dark Lord then maybe Harry could have been saved early. He wouldn’t have had to whip him. Dumbledore would have probably been dead by now,

“I was a fool. I wasn’t thinking straight. When I heard that Dumbledore intended to torture Harry, I couldn’t focus on anything except for saving him.”

The Dark Lord released his throat but a kept a firm hold on his hair,

“What happened next?”

Rabastan knew that The Dark Lord was certainly going to kill him after this and he would be right to do this because Harry had endured that whipping only because of his stupidity. He should have informed The Dark Lord. He should have used his bloody mind,

“I used the Polyjuice potion to disguise myself as Snape and infiltrated the castle. I waited in the dungeons and Dumbledore brought an unconscious Harry to me. I don’t know what happened to him before that. I don’t know what Dumbledore did to him but I…”

Rabastan’s voice faltered and The Dark Lord’s grip tightened on his hair,

“Keep talking, Rabastan. Do not dare to stop.”

Rabastan felt his own words poison his tongue,

“Dumbledore wanted to turn Harry back to his side and said that it was only going to be possible with pain. He wanted me to whip him…”

The Dark Lord’s crimson eyes had narrowed into thin slits and he was radiating hate,

“Tell me you did not do it. TELL ME, RABASTAN!!!”

A sob escaped Rabastan’s lips and he cried out,

“I did…I whipped him to within an inch of his life…”

He broke down and The Dark Lord finally let go of him,

“I am going to kill you in the most painful way possible, Rabastan. Mark my words.”

Rabastan curled into himself on the stone floor. He deserved it for being so thoughtless. He deserved it for risking Harry’s life simply because of his desire to play the hero,

“You obviously managed to get him out and it seems you have had him for the past few weeks when I was turning the world upside down in search of him. Has he healed?”

Rabastan could only shake his head,

“No. He can’t…”

The Dark Lord kicked him in the stomach and rested his boot on his chest,

“He can’t what?”

Rabastan rasped out,

“He can’t move his hands. Dumbledore shattered his fingers and even though his fingers have healed now, he can’t move them.”

The Dark Lord pressed his boot down on his chest and Rabastan cried out in pain,

“I am assuming if I take away his gloves, he shall be incapable of moving his hands?”

Rabastan gritted his teeth against the pain rising in his chest and nodded. The Dark Lord’s voice was full of venom when he spoke next,

“Has he recovered from the whipping?”

Rabastan shook his head again,

“Not completely.”

The Dark Lord pressed his boot down harder and the sickening sound of a crack resonated through the air followed by Rabastan’s screams. The pain was too much. He knew that The Dark Lord had just shattered two or three of his ribs. The Dark Lord bent low over him and growled out,

“Do you love him? Have you slept with him?”

Rabastan could only shake his head as he couldn’t stop the screams bursting out of his mouth. The Dark Lord smirked and waved his wand, the pain dulled and he stopped screaming,

“One more thing, Rabastan.”

 Rabastan knew what was coming and he didn’t want to answer that. He didn’t want to tell The Dark Lord that because it would be the ultimate betrayal,

“What did Harry say to you before coming here? What did he want you to do for him? I want you to repeat his exact words.”

Rabastan closed his eyes in defeat,

“He wanted me to do whatever it took to keep your trust, even if it involved hurting him. I was supposed to be his way out. He told me he trusted me and I was supposed to help him get out whenever he needed it.”

The Dark Lord’s eyes were burning with contempt and rage,

“You are useless to me in death. I have found a better way to exploit you.”

Rabastan could only stare up in horror as he realized what The Dark Lord was suggesting and then he burst out,

“Please…NO…Just kill me…I can’t do what you want me to…I’ll kill myself before I betray him.”

The Dark Lord laughed,

“I do not doubt that. But have you thought about what Harry will feel if you commit suicide? Would you really hurt him like that? He is counting on you, Rabastan. Do not mess it up.”

The Dark Lord had just turned around to leave when he turned back,

“I want your memories, Rabastan.”

Rabastan shook his head in protest,

“NO!”

The Dark Lord knelt down beside him and gripped his hair to keep his head still. He watched as he conjured a flask and set it down beside him on the floor. No, he couldn’t give up his memories. They were his. Rabastan continued to struggle and The Dark Lord restrained him. He rested the tip of his wand to Rabastan’s temple and murmured the incantation. Slowly he pulled the tip away and a long silvery strand came with it. Pulling it away, he deposited it in the flask where it swirled in a mesmerizing pattern. Finally, The Dark Lord vanished the restraints and spoke in a low, venomous voice,

“You have been nothing but imprudent, Rabastan and your imprudence is the reason Harry went through all that pain. If you had only come to me…Harry would not have had to suffer. Have you realized your mistake now?”

A broken sob escaped Rabastan’s lips and he nodded his head. The Dark Lord patted his cheek,

“You deserve all the pain that I shall inflict upon you, don’t you?”

Rabastan nodded his head again,

“You are going to obey me and follow my commands from now on. You shall not attempt to kill yourself. I want you to swear that on Harry’s magic.”

Rabastan shook his head and attempted to get himself away from The Dark Lord. He merely laughed and tightened his grip on Rabastan’s hair,

“What will Harry feel when I inform him of your disloyalty? How do you think he shall react? He will hate you. Do you really want that, Rabastan?”

Rabastan groaned out,

“No…”

The Dark Lord whispered softly and smoothed out his hair,

“Of course, you do not wish that happen. Swear your loyalty to me Rabastan. Swear it on Harry’s magic.”

Rabastan pressed his forehead to the stone floor in defeat. He couldn’t bear Harry’s hatred. He wouldn’t be able to bear it at all. The choice was obvious and it didn’t take long for him to verbalize it,

“I swear…I swear on Harry’s magic that I will obey your every command and I will not try to commit suicide.”

Voldemort patted him on the head and then rose to his feet. As soon as he stepped away from him the pain returned tenfold and Rabastan screamed again. The only other sound in the room apart from his screams was The Dark Lord’s deranged laughter.


	51. Chapter 51

Harry woke up with a start and cried out in pain as his head hit the faucet hard,

“Owww…”

Rubbing the back of his head, he sat up gingerly and realized the reason for his sudden awakening. Someone was insistently banging on the door of his room. Harry felt himself burning up with rage and shouted at the top of his voice,

“Where the hell is the bloody fire?”

He recognized the voice that shouted back as Draco’s,

“The Vampire Delegation is here. The Dark Lord wants your presence downstairs.”

Harry stopped rubbing his head and rose to his feet abruptly. How long had he been out? He eyed the wad of bloody bandages on the tiled floor and spoke out,

“I’ll be down in a bit.”

He kicked the bandages under the bath tub where they were out of sight and went to the mirror to take a look at his back. It still looked raw. No sudden movements for him for the rest of the night. He coughed and covered his mouth with his hand. His chest was aching like hell, so was his back. He was a proper mess right now and in no condition to be anywhere around Voldemort or a couple of Vampires.  Maybe he could skip out on that. Yeah right, that wasn’t even an option. Voldemort would come up here if he didn’t go down.

He walked out of the room still coughing and pulled open the wardrobe. He smirked when he realized that the wardrobe was no longer stocked with severe looking robes. He pulled out a fresh black shirt and the tightest pair of black jeans in the wardrobe. After a moment of thought, he pulled out a black undershirt as well, just in case his back started bleeding again. He pulled on the undershirt and slid his jeans on. He grabbed a bottle of perfume from the dresser and sprayed on nearly half of the bottle over himself. That should be enough to deceive and hopefully irritate the Vampires. Harry leaned over the dresser and coughed again. The perfume was affecting him more than it would probably affect the Vampires. Maybe this had been a terrible idea. He shook his head, pulled on his shirt and began buttoning it up. The perfume was necessary. He gave himself a minute to get used to the scent and poured himself a glass of water from the jug on the side table.

When his cough had somewhat subsided, he pulled on the robes and stepped out of the room. He found Draco standing in the entrance of the Manor, who turned to him when he saw him approach,

“The Dark Lord is in the Ballroom with his guests.”

Draco was about to lead the way when Harry spoke out,

“I know where it is.”

He made his way to the Ballroom. Upon reaching it he realized that it wasn’t as crowded as Harry had imagined. In fact, Harry counted that there were twenty people in the room. Well nineteen Vampires and one ostentatious bastard. He mentally changed the tally as he stepped across the threshold. Now there were nineteen Vampires and two ostentatious bastards. He wondered why Voldemort hadn’t allowed his death eaters to be here. Bella must be burning up with jealousy in some corner of the manor. He wondered if Voldemort had punished her more after he had left. Voldemort’s smooth voice brought him out of his musings,

“Harry, you are late.”

His lips quirked up in a smirk and he stepped closer to him,

“Fashionably late.”

He turned to the Vampire standing next to Voldemort and observed him. The man was deathly pale with steely grey eyes and blood red lips that stood in stark contrast to his ghastly pallor. His silvery blond hair cascaded down to his waist and complimented his black robes perfectly. Harry was perfectly aware of the fact that the vampire had been scrutinizing him just as aptly. Apparently, he liked what he saw because his blood red lips formed a leer, flashing his fangs. He extended his hand and Harry stared down at it for a moment,

“Marcus Cervantes.”

Harry took it,

“Harry Potter.”

The vampire swooped down and instantly placed a kiss to his hand. Harry was so glad he couldn’t feel it,

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Potter. I must say, you smell exquisite.”

Harry felt an arm wrap around his waist and the vampire instantly released his hand. Someone was jealous. Oh, he was going to have so much fun with this. He pulled away from Voldemort’s hold and turned to face him. The man’s expressions were polite but Harry saw the jealousy and murderous intent in those crimson orbs and it seemed Marcus had sensed it as well because he instantly made an excuse and withdrew,

“Did you bathe in perfume, Harry?”

Harry huffed out indignantly and crossed his arms over his chest,

“At least, Marcus had the decency to compliment me. I think I’ll seek him out.”

 Voldemort glared at him and gritted out,

“No, you shall do no such thing.”

Harry took a step back,

“Try to stop me.”

He was about to take another step back when he collided with someone. Voldemort’s expression instantly went neutral and Harry spun around. He came face to face with a breathtakingly, gorgeous man. His beautiful aquamarine eyes shone with amusement and his ruby red voracious lips curved into a smile, making his fangs peek out. Nope, he was outwardly gorgeous but the man was pure evil inside. Harry could just feel it and he instantly stepped back. The vampire however took his hand and brought it close to his lips,

“Nicholai Le Mort, at your service.”

Harry repressed a shudder and grinned as best as he could,

“Harry Potter.”

Harry attempted to pull away his hand but it seemed that Nicholai was in no mood to let him go. The vampire simply raised his other hand and traced the bruise underneath his jaw with a thoughtful expression on his face. Harry watched as his gaze turned away from him and shifted to Voldemort. Harry was almost hoping that Voldemort would pull him away from the vampire when he realized that he was not dependant on that bloody bastard and he had no obligation to be polite. He attempted to pull away again and gritted out,

“Let go of me.”

Nicholai merely laughed and pressed the bruise with his finger. Harry hissed out in pain and turned away his head. He continued his efforts to pull away but then mentally reminded himself.

_No sudden movements. Bleeding in a room full of Vampires was completely unacceptable._

He calmed down and grew still. He met the vampire’s aquamarine gaze and summoned up his most flirtatious expression,

“So, Nicholai, it seems you’re in no mood to let go of me. Is it my scent or do you feel captivated by my looks?”

Nicholai smirked and continued to trace his finger over his bruise,

“Simply exquisite. I can see why you kept him alive, Voldemort.”

Harry wanted to grit his teeth and it took him all his restraint and presence of mind not to kick the vampire in the shins. But he had addressed Voldemort by his name and that intrigued him. Voldemort’s voice sounded closer when he spoke next and Harry realized that he was standing right behind him,

“Nicholai, I was not expecting you.”

Nicholai chuckled and the sound grated on Harry’s nerve. Talk about being clingy. It seemed that the vampire’s fingers had somehow gotten glued to him,

“I could not trust Marcus with such an important matter and it feels like aeons since we last saw each other. A meeting was long overdue.”

Harry was definitely intrigued now,

“Who are you?”

Nicholai turned his gaze to Harry again and spoke softly,

“It seems your master has not educated you enough.”

That set every nerve in Harry’s body on fire and he finally managed to yank himself away from the Vampire,

“Master? HE IS NOT MY MASTER!”

Nicholai grinned maniacally,

“Voldemort is not your master?”

Harry felt Voldemort’s fingers close around his wrist in what seemed like a warning gesture and he attempted to yank away his hand,

“Yes, he is not my master.”

Nicholai drew closer to him and Harry felt Voldemort’s arm wrap around his waist and pull him backwards so that his back was pressed flush to his chest,

“That means you are available, Harry.”

Harry’s blood ran cold for a moment but Voldemort’s presence and his hold felt reassuring and helped him regain his composure quickly. When Voldemort spoke, his tone was doused with venom and Harry noticed the possessiveness in it,

“Harry is not available.”


	52. Chapter 52

Harry repressed a shiver as Voldemort released his wrist and traced a finger down his spine. Harry knew that the move was probably unintentional on Voldemort’s part but he still felt a bit uneasy. He strained against Voldemort’s hold but Voldemort’s grip was relentless. The amusement in Nicholai’s aquamarine eyes grew tenfold and he drawled,

“He is quite feisty, isn’t it?”

Voldemort brought his lips close to Harry’s ear and whispered vehemently,

“Be still, Harry. Be very still if you do not wish to become Nicholai’s meal.”

Harry continued his attempts to pull away from Voldemort and gritted out,

“So, I can become yours?”

Voldemort chuckled darkly in his ear,

“Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t.”

Harry laughed bitterly,

“At least you admit you’re a devil. But you should know that I am not obligated to choose between any devils.”

He managed to pry himself away from Voldemort and then glared at Nicholai,

“I think no one has ever had the audacity to tell you what a sick bastard you are.”

All amusement vanished from Nicholai’s gaze and was instantly replaced by rage. He bared his fangs and took a step closer to Harry. Harry’s gaze wandered behind him where the entire vampire delegation was grouping up. He had messed up Voldemort’s meeting and Voldemort was probably disappointed. Damn it. He hadn’t meant to mess it up. But he had been cornered so what had Voldemort expected? In fact, why had Voldemort even wanted him to be here? The man should have known better. Nicholai was standing an inch away from him and his entire delegation was right behind him. Harry was aware of Voldemort glaring daggers in his back and he knew that he was expected to fix this,

“You weren’t even invited Nicholai.”

Nicholai was about to reach for him when Harry stepped back. Damn, that had been the wrong thing to say. But frankly Nicholai was an arrogant bastard and if he thought that he could come here and just dominate the meeting then he was sorely mistaken and Harry was bent on proving that,

“I think Voldemort has given you too much leeway. After all, you are his prisoner. A cage is where you belong…”

Nicholai paused and closed his eyes,

“Mmmm…I can almost imagine it. You would look gorgeous behind bars. That pale neck of yours wrapped up in a leather collar…my collar…”

Harry burst out in raucous laughter and Nicholai’s eyes snapped open,

“Snap out of your daydream and keep your bloody thoughts to yourself.”

Nicholai snapped his fangs and Harry smirked. He was about to speak when Voldemort spoke loudly,

“Let us proceed for dinner.”

Harry held Nicholai’s gaze and spoke,

“Yeah sure.”

He stepped back and sneered,

“After you, our uninvited guest.”

Harry felt a hollow feeling in his chest when Voldemort ignored him and lead the Vampire delegation out of the ballroom. He was definitely disappointed and Harry hated that. He absolutely hated it when Voldemort ignored him. He coughed and leaned against the wall. His eyelids fluttered shut as he thought about what he was going to do. Nicholai’s slow drawl forced his eyes to snap open,

“He won’t always be around to protect you.”

Harry pushed his hands in the pockets of his robes. Always was a long time and he didn’t have that much. He coughed and covered his mouth with his hand,

“What makes you think I rely on his protection?”

Nicholai was about to touch him when Harry stepped back,

“Don’t you dare touch me.”

Harry stepped away from him and began walking out of the ballroom when Nicholai spoke,

“Stop.”

Harry didn’t want to but he was interested in listening to whatever Nicholai had to say so he stopped but didn’t turn around,

“This meeting is not going to bear Voldemort any results and you are to blame for that.”

Harry shrugged,

“He wouldn’t have asked me to come if the meeting had been important to him. He knows what I’m like and he must have known that I was going to mess everything up.”

Nicholai’s next words pulled the earth right from underneath his feet,

“Maybe it was important to him and he counted on you to be responsible.”

Harry laughed hollowly,

“He knows he can’t count on me for anything.”

Except for he had promised him that he would be responsible. That he would prove his worth. If this meeting wasn’t successful then he would be the one to blame. Bella was going to be gleeful that he had failed and Voldemort…Voldemort was already disappointed in him. Damn it! Life was so much easier when he hadn’t cared. But he couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t cared. There was always something. And right now, there was Voldemort. He didn’t owe the man anything but he still hated himself for messing up,

“What was Voldemort going to gain out of this meeting?”

Harry could hear Nicholai’s smirk when he spoke,

“Our alliance with his government and our assistance in his siege over Hogwarts.”

Harry inhaled sharply as the name brought back all the memories of pain and torture. Dumbledore had poisoned his memories as well because whenever he’d heard the name “Hogwarts” he had thought of home, safety and warmth and now all he could remember was Dumbledore’s torture,

“Why does he need your assistance? Aren’t his death eaters enough?”

Nicholai laughed and Harry felt his presence close to him,

“Because Voldemort knows his death eaters are useless.”

Maybe that’s why none of his death eaters were allowed in the meeting. It made him feel all the more inadequate. He balled his hands into fists in his pocket and spoke through gritted teeth,

“What do you want?”

Nicholai stepped in front of him and Harry wanted to wipe that smug smile off his face. Nicholai raised his hand and this time Harry didn’t step back. He stood still and felt Nicholai’s elongated nails graze against his neck. He cocked his eyebrow and Harry hitched up a grin,

“You never answered my question, Nick.”

Nicholai smiled in amusement and murmured,

“Your looks have me absolutely captivated.”

Harry grabbed him by the front of his robes, leaned forward and whispered softly,

“Listen up. Bastard. This is how it’s going to work out. We will continue our negotiations later. Promise Voldemort your assistance for now and then we can agree upon what you want from me in return.”

Nicholai licked his lips and smirked,

“Shall I inform Voldemort of our negotiations?”

Harry released him and began walking away,

“Sure. Inform him if you want them to end before they even begin.”

He stepped into the corridor and couldn’t help but smirk when he felt Nicholai trailing behind him. He felt a wonderful sense of achievement at the moment, even though he knew very well that he was going to regret this later…he was going to regret it so much.


	53. Chapter 53

Voldemort was engaged in a conversation with Marcus when Harry stepped into the dining hall. If Voldemort was determined to pretend that he didn’t exist then he would do the same. He inhabited the vacant seat to his right and quickly found himself in a conversation with some nameless, overly frank vampire. In normal circumstances, he would have told him to shut up but right now he needed the meaningless gossip. Nicholai inhabited the seat directly opposite him and gazed at him pointedly. Harry ignored him and tuned himself out of the gossip. Dinner was served and Harry was glad for it even though he had no appetite. He picked up his knife and fork and realized how difficult it was to hold them because they kept slipping through his silk gloved fingers,

“Take off the gloves, Harry.”

He looked up and realized that Voldemort’s crimson gaze was focused on him. His lips were pressed in a thin line and the rest of his face was an emotionless mask. Harry looked away from him and grabbed the cutlery tighter between his fingers. Voldemort’s voice was several octaves louder and aggressive when he spoke next,

“Take off the damned gloves!”

Harry stabbed his steak with the fork with unnecessary force,

“No.”

Harry’s plate vanished from in front of him and reappeared in front of Voldemort. He glared up at him silently for a few moments until Nicholai’s amused chuckle rang through the otherwise silent hall. It only served to fuel Harry’s rage and apparently Voldemort’s as well because the man pulled out the fork from the steak and started slicing it into bite size bits like one would do for a child and then placed the plate in front of him,

“Since you insist on acting like a child, you should be treated as one.”

Harry had half a mind to get up and leave but no…no more running. He threw his knife away which landed on the floor with a clatter and picked up a piece of steak with his gloved fingers. He brought it close to his mouth and ate it with a twisted smirk. The rage in Voldemort’s eyes was beautiful but the rest of his face remained impassive. Harry ate the rest of his meal with his fingers and then attempted to wipe them clean with a napkin but they had gotten soiled and he wondered how he was going to get them clean. He rose to his feet and watched silently as the Vampire Delegation took their leave. Nicholai leered at him suggestively before leaving and Harry waved him good bye. Good riddance. He hoped he never saw the bastard again. Harry was about to make his way out of the dining hall and head to his room when his wrist was grasped in a bone shattering grip.

He stood still. Of course, Voldemort’s rage was eventually going to boil over and now as a good time as any. He was roughly shoved face first against the wall. Voldemort pulled his right arm behind his back and bent it painfully. His breath tickled Harry’s ear and he whispered,

“This is your last chance to tell me the truth. If you don’t then I shall unravel it myself.”

Harry remained silent and closed his eyes. If he tried to move now, Voldemort would break his arm. His shoulder was already starting to ache. Voldemort hadn’t been able to unravel anything till now, Harry was confident he wouldn’t be able to unravel anything in the future either,

“Unravel it, Lover.”

Voldemort laughed a low predatory laugh in his ear and sneered,

“Careful what you ask for.”

Voldemort was too close to him. Harry could feel his warmth seeping through his clothes. It felt incredibly soothing against his aching back and Harry resisted the urge to sigh out in relief partially because his shoulder was aching and partially because he didn’t want to give Voldemort the satisfaction of knowing that he found his proximity soothing. Voldemort sounded thoughtful when he spoke next,

“You have had these gloves on since you returned and you refused to take them off when I specifically asked you to. Let me remove them for you, Harry.”

Harry’s heart thudded in his chest with panic and he attempted to move. No, he wasn’t going to allow Voldemort to take them off. He just couldn’t. His shoulder protested against the movement but Harry couldn’t just stand still and let Voldemort do that. He ground out,

“Don’t you bloody dare.”

 Voldemort chuckled softly in his ear,

“You should have taken them off when I asked you to.”

Harry willed his magic to react. He willed it to push Voldemort away but nothing happened. He struggled against Voldemort’s hold fruitlessly. His chest was constricted with panic and he had difficulty breathing. He wasn’t sure if Voldemort was doing this because he knew about his hands or he was just angry that Harry had disobeyed a direct order in front on an entire delegation. Harry was sixty percent sure that it was the latter.

The gloves vanished and Harry let his forehead rest against the wall. It was over. Voldemort was going to know. He was going to know that he couldn’t move his hands. Next, he would know about Dumbledore’s torture and then he would discover his back and then…his illness…NO…he wouldn’t let it go that far. He just wouldn’t. He stared down at his left hand hanging uselessly at his side and attempted to curl his fingers but it didn’t work. Voldemort released his arm and Harry felt his warmth retreat. He allowed his right arm to fall to his side as well and felt his shoulder sigh in relief. He wanted Voldemort to leave now that he had had his revenge.

_Let Voldemort leave…Please…Let Voldemort just leave._

But Voldemort’s voice rang out in the empty dining hall,

“Turn around, Harry.”

Harry didn’t want to but right now appeasing Voldemort and getting away from him without his secret being known was the only thing that mattered. So, he turned and looked at Voldemort. There was no rage in Voldemort’s crimson eyes. He was holding a wand between his pale fingers and Harry realized with a pang that it was his. Voldemort extended his hand, the wand resting atop his open palm,

“Come and take it. After all, it is rightfully yours.”

Harry looked at Voldemort and then his wand. Despair flooded his chest as he took a few steps forward. His wand was within his reach. He only needed to raise his hand and close his fingers around it. He tried to. He tried to flex his fingers, tried to curl them but he could barely feel his hands let alone move them. Voldemort stepped closer to him,

“Take it, Harry. I presumed you wanted it so your hesitation does not make sense to me.”

Harry stared down at his shoes because he couldn’t bear to look at his wand. He couldn’t bear the fact that he couldn’t take it because Dumbledore had turned him into a bloody invalid. Bitter despair choked him and he squeezed his eyes shut. What would Voldemort think when he will find out? He’d probably be overjoyed. The man yearned to see him weakened and here Harry was…at his weakest. He couldn’t even leave…couldn’t run because he couldn’t use his hands. He couldn’t even open a damned door by himself if he tried right now. That old bastard had utterly ruined him,

“I don’t want my wand.”

Harry paused and realized how hoarse he sounded. He expected Voldemort to laugh…to goad him but Voldemort did nothing. Harry saw something that oddly resembled sincerity in his crimson gaze,

“What do you want, Harry?”

Harry tried to sound confident, tried to sound like his usual self but when he spoke again, his voice had grown weaker,

“I want my gloves back.”

Harry’s heart screamed as he watched his wand disappear from Voldemort’s palm. He would probably never see it again. The wand was soon replaced by his black silk gloves. Voldemort held them towards him,

“Take them.”

Voldemort’s crimson eyes were glimmering. Were those tears? He broke eye contact and let his head fall. He was starting to hallucinate now. He was sure of it but… He gazed up again cautiously and noticed that there was no such things as tears in those eyes. He’d definitely been hallucinating,

“Harry.”

Harry looked up and saw Voldemort thrust the gloves in his motionless, numb, right hand. Harry couldn’t close his fingers around them and they fell to the ground soundlessly. Harry kept his gaze fixated on them while he fought back tears that threatened to burst forth. He didn’t feel it, couldn’t feel it when Voldemort took his right hand in his. He could just watch. He saw Voldemort conjure something in his left hand but couldn’t see what it was. Voldemort turned his hand in his grip so that his palm was facing upward and then he realized that Voldemort had conjured a small silver pin,

“Look into my eyes, Harry.”

Harry refused to. He wouldn’t because he was certain that if he met Voldemort’s gaze, the man would be able to see the pain, despair and vulnerability in his eyes,

“Look at me!”

Harry looked up and met Voldemort’s gaze and he was surprised to his own pain mirrored in Voldemort’s. Had he said something wrong? Had he done something wrong? Was Voldemort hurt by what a disappointment he’d been tonight? Harry forgot everything and tried to remember what he had done to put that pained look on Voldemort’s face. Had Nicholai backed out? It could be a possibility. Harry flinched suddenly and looked down. Voldemort had pricked his arm with the pin,

“Eyes on me, Harry.”

Harry dragged his gaze away from the pin. He understood what Voldemort was doing. The man must have gotten a clue that Harry couldn’t use his hands and now he was testing his theory. He kept his eyes fixed on Voldemort’s. Trying to understand what the man was thinking. Trying to assess why his eyes were so full of pain. A few minutes passed and Harry finally blinked and looked down. He noticed several prick marks on his hand at various points on his fingers and palm. He hadn’t felt any of them. Voldemort released his right hand and gripped his left,

“Eyes on me.”

Harry shifted his gaze back up, expecting to see ridicule in Voldemort’s gaze but it seemed the pain in Voldemort’s crimson gaze had seemed to intensify. He jerked with pain when Voldemort pricked his arm. But after that he felt nothing. Voldemort released his hand and it fell uselessly to his side. Harry squeezed his eyes shut. Voldemort knew…He knew…


	54. Chapter 54

Voldemort conjured a chair and pushed Harry down in it. He still had his eyes closed as if blocking out the sight might help him ignore the situation but that wasn’t going to be the case today. He had had enough. He was going to get the truth out of Harry, no matter what. He hadn’t expected to see Harry so vulnerable but he was also certain that it was temporary. Harry was going to slip behind his façade again and lash out as soon as he got back some semblance of calm. He was prepared for that. The weight of guilt rested heavily on his chest because this was his fault. Harry’s current state was his fault. He should have been more sensible that day. He shouldn’t have allowed his sentiments to dictate his actions. He should have locked Harry up somewhere safe when he’d had the chance. His gaze flicked to Harry’s hands and he wondered if Harry would be able to use them again. He mentally scoffed at himself. Was he accepting defeat without trying? He was going to break whatever curse Dumbledore had used on Harry and then he was going to murder the old fool as slowly and painfully as possible.

He conjured a seat for himself and sat down in front of Harry,

“Harry, open your eyes.”

Harry didn’t. He inwardly prayed for patience because he was certain Harry was going to as difficult as he possibly could. Their conversations never ended well,

“What happened?”

Harry opened his eyes and met Voldemort’s gaze. He stared into those emerald eyes and realized that the vulnerability was gone along with the pain, he had seen in them a few moments ago. Harry’s caustic shield was back in place. A smirk curved his lips and his tone was light as he echoed his question,

“What happened?”

This really was going to be difficult. He kept his gaze fixed on Harry’s, attempting to employ his legilimency skills but they had never worked on Harry ever since Bella had brought him here. It was as if Harry had erected a barrier inside his head. A barrier that perhaps even Harry himself was unaware of. He almost missed the old Harry. The one that had been terrified of him. The one that he had so easily tortured in the graveyard that night. The one that been so easy to control and manipulate last year when he had wanted him to retrieve the prophecy for him. The one he had possessed. This Harry was so different on so many levels. Sometimes he regretted using his Godfather as bait. If his bloody Godfather hadn’t died, maybe Harry would still be the same.  He sighed inwardly and rephrased his question,

“What happened to your hands?”

He expected a sliver of vulnerability to make an appearance again in Harry’s eyes at the mention of his hands but it didn’t. Harry’s expression grew thoughtful and he was certain that he was concocting a lie to feed him,

“It was a wand accident.”

Voldemort kept his amusement at bay as he observed Harry’s body language. He seemed calmer and much more relaxed now. His eyes betrayed nothing. Harry was a perfect liar. If he hadn’t known what had really happened, he might even have accepted that lie,

“A wand accident?”

Harry nodded solemnly,

“When I was away, I decided to practice duelling. The wand was messed up and it backfired.”

Voldemort leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest,

“Which curse backfired?”

Confusion and a little panic flitted through Harry’s eyes as he attempted to think of a curse. Voldemort inwardly smirked in satisfaction. Harry shook off the confusion and spoke,

“It doesn’t matter.”

Voldemort held back a chuckle. There was no harm in indulging Harry a little more,

“It does matter, Harry. I shall reverse it and your hands shall recover.”

Something like realization dawned in Harry’s eyes but he smirked playfully and spoke in a mock hopeful tone

“Oh really? You’re going to fix my hands?”

Voldemort leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest,

“Do you believe otherwise?”

Harry leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially,

“I think my disability suits you.”

Harry was right and it unnerved him. It did suit him because Harry couldn’t go anywhere in his current state. Having Harry under his power was what he had wanted and the fact that Harry could no longer move his hands worked in his favour. No wonder Harry didn’t trust him or anyone else for that matter. He had seen Rabastan’s memories and no matter how amicable Harry had been towards him, he was certain that Harry hadn’t trusted him. He knew that because Rabastan knew nothing more then what he had witnessed or inflicted upon Harry. Harry hadn’t trusted him enough to tell him about what Dumbledore had done to him. Had Harry used him? Was Rabastan nothing more than a pawn for Harry? Harry laughed softly and he was brought out of his musings,

“You won’t heal me, Lover. You like me better this way. Admit it.”

Voldemort rose to his feet. He should like him better this way. He should like Harry, weak, vulnerable and entirely dependent on him. But he didn’t. Seeing Harry like this sickened him and infuriated him. He felt Harry’s pain because it was his fault. This was all his fault. He rose to his feet and Harry reclined back in his seat lazily,

“I’m sure you’re wishing you could take my tongue as well so I could be the perfect little prisoner for you. Defenceless, voiceless…completely at your mercy. You want that, don’t you?”

Harry paused and laughed humourlessly,

“Who am I kidding? Ofcourse, you do. It’ll be a wet dream come true for you.”

Voldemort felt his patience snap. He turned swiftly and leaned over Harry, his lips inches away from his, his hands entangled in those raven black locks. Harry’s lips were curled into a smug smile, his eyes conveying his satisfaction perfectly,

“Taking your tongue can be easily arranged.”

And then they were kissing…if it could be called kissing at all, more like attacking.  Voldemort ravished Harry’s mouth with wet, deep kisses, with a ferocious hunger that he had never felt for anyone but Harry. He plunged his tongue into Harry’s mouth, sweeping inside and plundering, owning, and Harry was kissing him back, heedless of the sharp metallic tang of blood that mingled on their tongues. The flames that were burning in his blood erupted into a sudden inferno, and he was lost, only distantly aware that Harry was gasping. Voldemort’s mind was blissfully empty beyond a formless depth of want, and desire, and carnal need. So much need.

He forced himself to pull away and took in the sight of Harry’s bruised and swollen lips. He had bitten his lower lip at some point because a trickle of blood was running down his chin. He leaned forward and wiped it away with his thumb,

“How did that feel, Harry?”

He could see that Harry was still breathless from the kiss and his emerald eyes were ablaze with rage. He smirked and stepped back,

“You were defenceless…voiceless…completely at my mercy and yet you enjoyed it. You enjoyed being my perfect little prisoner.”

Harry rose to his feet steadily,

“You just took advantage of me. It only serves to prove my point.”

Voldemort crossed his arms over his chest and gave Harry a once over before meeting his emerald gaze and smirking playfully,

“Took advantage of you? You are well informed of your status as my prisoner. I can do whatever I desire to do with you, whenever I desire it, wherever I desire it.”

Harry laughed derisively but his anger and frustration were clearly visible in his eyes. Harry had a way of getting under his skin. It felt extremely gratifying to do the same to him. Harry was thinking hard. The crease on his forehead told him so. Finally, Harry shook his head and spoke with a laugh,

“No, you can’t.”

Voldemort stepped closer to him and spoke,

“Pardon?”

Harry met his gaze and smirked coyly,

“You can’t do whatever you want to me.”

Harry leaned close to him until their breaths mingled,

“I’ve seen your desire to undress me every time you look at me but you haven’t done that yet.”

Harry swiped his tongue over his lips, moistening them and Voldemort felt desire coil in his stomach,

“You said that there’s a connection between us…”

He felt Harry’s lips brush against his and resisted the urge to kiss him again,

“There is no connection. There is only lust…you want me…you want me naked and in your bed but you can’t have that…”

Harry lips moved lower and he nipped at his neck. Pleasure coursed through his blood and the sensations running through his body were sawing at his self-restraint. It was so difficult to stand still. Harry’s words melted into his skin,

“Not until I consent…”

Another nip,

“Not until I say so…”

And then another. Voldemort bit his tongue to hold back a moan. One more and he was certain he would lose control,

“Not until I want you too.”

Harry stepped away from him, taking his warm breath and his soft lips with him,

“So, tell me which one of us is the prisoner?”

It took him a minute to gather his thoughts. He was aroused and extremely unsettled. How did Harry manage to do that? He cleared his throat but his voice still sounded rough,

“Do not underestimate me, Harry. I could rape you and make you enjoy it.”

Harry laughed earnestly and raised an eyebrow,

“Go on then. Rape me…I can’t use my hands, so I won’t even be able to stop you. You’ll face no resistance from me.”

Voldemort knew that his threat had been empty. He couldn’t rape Harry. He wouldn’t. Harry grinned,

“I know that you can’t. Do you want to know why?”

Voldemort was transfixed by the confidence and self-assurance in Harry’s eyes. He felt unable to reply so Harry answered,

“Because if you force me into you bed and force yourself on me, you might fulfil your desire but you won’t be satisfied. Your desire for me holds you prisoner and only I can set you free.”

 Harry was fundamentally right but he was denying his own attraction in this matter. He knew that Harry wanted him. Harry had admitted it and he was going to make him admit it again. No matter what it took. Voldemort took a step closer to him and gripped his jaw,

“How can you be so sure of yourself? I can defile you and leave you in a cell to rot on a mere whim.”

Harry straightened up and held his gaze. His eyes were filled with cruelty,

“You talk like you’re the villain of this story.”

Harry shrugged away from his grip, rested his head on his shoulder and whispered in his ear,

“Well I’ve got news for you, Lover… You’re not…”

Harry’s breath tickled his ear and Voldemort felt his hands ball into fists,

“You’re not the villain of our story anymore…you were…but now…”

 Harry licked his earlobe and spoke in a barely audible voice,

“I’m the villain of our story, Lover, and I won’t ever free you. Accept that.”


	55. Chapter 55

_Stupid…Stupid…Stupid…_

What the hell was wrong with him? He had to shut up…he had to shut his mouth…He should cut his tongue out right now because literally it was running rampant at the moment. To be fair, that bastard shouldn’t have kissed him. He didn’t enjoy how unsettled and needy the kiss had left him. He’d never wanted the kiss to end. He was hungry for those lips again. He wanted Voldemort’s hands on him…he needed to feel his bare skin on his. Voldemort had been so right. He enjoyed it…He had enjoyed it and he was aching for more. He mentally slapped himself. Yup…this is exactly why he was spouting all sorts of nonsense and making things worse.

He hated himself…hated the hypocrite he had become…hated his own stupidity…His tongue was denying that he wanted Voldemort but his heart was screaming for more of him…more of Voldemort’s lips…more of his touch…just more more more.

Well he wasn’t going to get more…he couldn’t afford more…so his heart would just have to suck it up and play along. Maybe he should tell Voldemort…maybe he should just tell him everything and get this over with because this whole thing was getting tiring and out of hand. Harry wanted to stomp his feet on the ground and throw a tantrum. He felt like a bloody schoolboy. His indecisiveness would kill him before his illness would but maybe the insatiable want that he felt for Voldemort would be the death of him. No…he wasn’t going to tell Voldemort…he just couldn’t…His inner self scoffed and spoke

_Why the hell not?_

Harry resisted the urge to shake his head. Why not? Because he was afraid that Voldemort wouldn’t let him die. He would force him to live. Harry didn’t want to. He didn’t want to live. If he was honest with himself, it wasn’t even about Sirius anymore. He had accepted long ago that Sirius was in a better place…he had accepted his death…Harry was just tired…he was tired of this cold world…tired of the hypocritical people…tired of everything.

_You aren’t tired of Voldemort though. Admit it…You’ll never grow tired of him._

Harry grimaced internally. He hated his inner self…hated how right it was. He wasn’t tired of Voldemort. Far from it… He wanted him and it wasn’t even the normal kind of want. It was sexual and perverted and all kinds of wrong. All the things he had just accused Voldemort of wanting…he wanted them just as badly…Voldemort wasn’t the prisoner, he was… and that terrified him…he was bloody terrified of himself.

He barely heard the words that were rolling off his tongue but he knew they weren’t anything good. When his tongue finally stopped moving Voldemort accioed the gloves from the floor and grabbed Harry’s hands.

Had he pushed Voldemort enough? He wanted him to be the sadistic bastard rather than the man that stood infront of him and visibly cared about him. If this was an act then he wanted Voldemort to cut it out. If he could infuriate him enough, maybe Voldemort would snap, show his true self and reveal his true intentions.

Voldemort met his gaze and spoke,

“It does not matter what happened to you. I shall heal your hands just for the very purpose of having you under my debt.”

Under Voldemort’s debt…Harry’s insides burned with rage and he burst out,

“You can’t indebt me. My hands are like this because of you. If anything, you owe me.”

Harry instantly bit his lower lip.

_Damn it…Damn him_

So much for not telling Voldemort. He was really beginning to wonder about his own mental stability. He felt like he was going insane. Nope…he wasn’t going insane…he was already insane. Voldemort had a very curious glint in his eyes,

“I owe you? What do I owe you for, Harry?”

Harry didn’t trust his tongue anymore. The temptation to cut it out was stronger than ever. Voldemort drew closer to him and spoke again,

“I believe you are lying. I do not owe you anything. You are making this up so you may acquire favours from me.”

Harry knew Voldemort was intimidating him…he was getting under his skin and it was working. It was working so well despite Harry’s efforts to resist it,

“You bloody bastard…Do you have any idea what Dumbledore was planning? He had memories of your past…memories of the time when you weren’t even born…I saw your mother, Merope…I saw your uncle, Morfin and your grandfather Marvolo and your father Tom Riddle…I know how they treated her…I know all about the love potions…I know all about how your father abandoned your mother when she was pregnant with you…I know how she died giving birth to you…”

Voldemort’s grip went slack on his hands and he let them fall. Harry closed his eyes. Why had he done that? He shouldn’t have spoken. Harry expected rage from Voldemort…he expected Voldemort to torture him for knowing…he wanted Voldemort to torture him…Deep down he wanted Voldemort to hate him for knowing, maybe that’s why he had spoken,

“I stand correct in my assumption that you returned to Dumbledore but the question that stands is what did you do?”

Harry hadn’t expected that question. He opened his eyes and met Voldemort’s gaze. There wasn’t any rage there. No hate…No dislike…There was resignation in those crimson eyes,

“You aren’t…I mean…Don’t you hate me for going back to Dumbledore and knowing about your past?”

Voldemort shook his head and turned his back to him,

“It does not surprise me in the least that you returned to Dumbledore like the good little pet you are. And you do seem to have a knack for knowing things that no other soul knows about me…well no other soul excluding Dumbledore.”

Harry straightened up,

“I am not his pet…”

Voldemort cocked an eyebrow at him and Harry ground out,

“I didn’t return to him of my own free will…He had me kidnapped from the Atrium that day.”

The corner of Voldemort’s mouth twitched up in a smirk but he didn’t say anything and that bothered Harry. He was telling the truth now and Voldemort wasn’t believing him…that bastard wasn’t believing him,

What if I tell your beloved followers everything?”

Voldemort chuckled but didn’t deem his question worthy of a reply,

“I’m serious. I could tell everyone, everything…You should obliviate me or kill me or something…”

Voldemort turned around and cupped his cheek. Harry met his gaze and saw something akin to affection in his eyes. He hadn’t expected to see that…Where was the rage? Where the hell was Voldemort’s anger?

“Or something.”

Harry raised an eyebrow questioningly and Voldemort spoke,

“I choose or something from the options you provided me with.”

Voldemort’s thumb rubbed soothing circles behind his ear and it was distracting as hell. Harry whispered hoarsely,

“What does or something entail?”

Voldemort smiled…it wasn’t sardonic or demonic. It was a real smile…bright and open. Harry was momentarily mesmerized by how beautifully it lit up his handsome features. Voldemort patted him on the cheek softly and Harry tore himself out of the trance. He hated how fast his heart was beating or how short he seemed to be on air all of a sudden or the heat that was spreading through his body,

“I shall tell you if you tell me what you did.”

Harry wanted to bang his head against the wall. This was all kinds of messed up. His body was yearning to be close to Voldemort and he was willing to do anything for that to happen. It was wrong…so wrong and yet so right as well.

“I shattered the memories right in front of that old bastard’s eyes. I shattered them so that he couldn’t use them against you. Obviously, he didn’t take it too well and crushed my fingers…one by one…he shattered them and I was conscious through it all…”


	56. Chapter 56

Voldemort flicked his wand and Harry looked down to realize that his fingers were once again encased in the black silk gloves. He flexed them and looked up at Voldemort again. His shoulders were tense and Harry wondered what was going through his mind. He was about to say something when Voldemort spoke in a low voice,

“Go to your room.”

Voldemort’s voice was trembling with barely controlled rage and Harry wondered if his wrath was directed towards him or Dumbledore. Well if he had to guess, it was definitely directed at Dumbledore. As much as he wanted to stick around to find out, his throat was beginning to feel scratchy and raw…signs of a coughing fit. He was surprised he had managed not to cough for this long…come to think of it, his condition had been pretty stable since he had returned. Well, that was about to change. Harry took that as his cue to leave. He was about to move when…

The floor was moving and the noise was like extended thunder made only worse by the vibrations coming from below. The table and chairs were jumping over the floor like they had a mind of their own. They clattered to the floor with several loud bangs. The walls screamed and the torchlight flickered rapidly before going out altogether. The pictures fall from the walls, glass shattered. Voldemort roared again,

“GO, HARRY!!!”

Harry couldn’t quite understand what was going on. Was this Voldemort’s rage? It must be. He was tempted to stay and calm Voldemort down but he had a feeling nothing was going to calm him down at the moment so he left the disarrayed dining hall which seemed like it was going to crumble down around Voldemort any second.

He made his way up to his room, closed the door and locked it. The entire Manor was shaking with Voldemort’s rage. It was like an earthquake or a storm was tearing it asunder. Maybe he shouldn’t have told Voldemort about what had happened to him. He slumped down on the bed and was instantly consumed by a coughing fit but the sound of his coughing was drowned out by the noise which was many magnitudes louder than thunder. The roar was at an intensity he'd never experienced before. Harry couldn’t stop coughing. It rattled his body and probably his soul too. He white knuckled the covers as his chest and stomach ached like hell. The deafening sounds of explosions and crashes rang through the space and the sound of his hacking cough was muted by them. The metallic, bitter taste of blood rose up his throat and overwhelmed his taste buds. He forced his jaw shut.

_Get up…Just get up…_

He couldn’t. He wrapped his arms around his midsection and started coughing again, only mildly aware of the blood that accompanied it. The pain was worse…far worse than before. It felt like the pain that probably preceded death. Was this it? Harry’s nails dug into his body as the spasmodic cough rattled his body just like Voldemort’s rage was currently rattling the Manor. A weak cry escaped his lips between the coughs. He wanted it to end already. If this was a fit then he wanted it to pass and if this was more than just a fit then he wanted to die.

It passed though…the fit passed and Harry lay on his stomach with his head turned to the side, his cheek pressed in the mattress…so utterly exhausted and worn out. So exhausted that he couldn’t even muster the strength to cough. The racket from downstairs had dulled. It seemed Voldemort’s rage was starting to cool down as well. If the noise from earlier was anything to go by then the Malfoys must be feeling pretty devastated. Good for them. He opened his eyes slowly and saw the crimson blood stains scattered like blossoming flowers on the white covers. His eyelids fluttered shut again. Somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to care. If Voldemort saw them then he would simply blame it on the torture Dumbledore had inflicted upon him. His breathing was still irregular and the pain in his chest hadn’t subsided but despite that he was still able to relax a bit.

He had no idea how long he just lay there but he must have dozed off because the click of the lock and the sound of the door opening awakened him. He couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes, couldn’t bring himself to move. His body was aching all over. Harry knew the person that had just entered his room was Voldemort. Hadn’t they seen enough of each other today? The mattress dipped and Harry heard Voldemort inhale sharply. Harry had no doubt that he’d seen the blood stains. Harry expected Voldemort to say something but the man remained silent. Did Voldemort think he was asleep? Possibly. He hadn’t moved at all since Voldemort had entered the room.

Harry felt his robes vanish and he was tempted to say something but decided to remain quiet just to see what Voldemort was going to do. He had an inkling though and it bothered him. How did Voldemort know about his back? Had he done something to give himself away? Maybe Voldemort didn’t know. Maybe he was simply here to check for more injuries. Well if that was Voldemort’s intentions then he was in for a gruesome surprise. His shirt was the next to go and then his undershirt disappeared as well. Harry was perfectly aware of the fact that his marred back, in all its gory glory, was on complete display for Voldemort to see. Harry fought the urge to fidget. Rabastan had seen his back every day when he had been healing and that hadn’t made him feel self-conscious. But the way Voldemort was gazing down at his back now was making him feel ill at ease. Maybe because Voldemort had seen his back before it had been ripped apart by Dumbledore. He couldn’t help but think about everything that had happened in that shower that day. Voldemort had definitely found him irresistible then. Harry was certain he didn’t find him irresistible now.

He battled the urge to flinch when he felt Voldemort’s feather soft touch on his back,

“Why, Harry?”

Voldemort’s voice was overflowing with emotions and he felt something warm land on his back…drop after drop…tears…they were tears…Was Voldemort really crying? He remained still and forced himself to be quiet. Why indeed? He had asked himself that so many times. He didn’t care about Voldemort. He hadn’t owed him anything and yet he had risked his own well-being for that man, not that his well-being wasn’t that well to start with but still. He still didn’t have the answer but he was tempted to believe that he was lying to himself when he said that he didn’t care about Voldemort. He did care. If anything, he cared more than he should. First with Dumbledore and now with Nicholai…everything that he had done was because he cared about Voldemort…cared about his interests. No…No…No…He had only negotiated with Nicholai because he wanted to see Hogwarts conquered, he wanted to see Dumbledore suffer, he wanted to kill the old man with his own bare hands.

_Yeah right. You’re lying to yourself again._

He hated that voice…absolutely loathed it. Why did it keep getting stronger? He had been hearing more and more of it ever since this morning when he had returned to Voldemort. Sometimes he just wanted it to shut up. Voldemort’s touch vanished and the mattress shifted. Voldemort was leaving and Harry was gripped by the intense urge to stop him. He didn’t though. The door opened and closed and Harry was once again left alone in the room.   


	57. Chapter 57

Harry woke up coughing. He buried his face in the pillow and waited for it to pass. Eventually it did and he sat up weakly. The pain in his chest was a permanent fixture now. He was shirtless again. This was the second week in a row that he had woken up in this state. Voldemort’s late-night visits had become, somewhat, a ritual. Most nights Voldemort just sat beside him and stared down at his back while he pretended to be asleep. But last night had been different. Voldemort had trailed feather soft kisses down his back and oddly enough Harry had been half asleep then so he had moaned out at the kisses and Voldemort had only kissed him more until he had fallen asleep completely.

He never understood why Voldemort never replaced his shirt before leaving. It was as if he wanted Harry to know…wanted him to call him out on his late-night visits, but Harry wasn’t going to. The morning after the first night Voldemort had seen his back and the blood on the covers, Harry had expected him to voice his findings but Voldemort hadn’t. They hadn’t even touched the topic. Instead they had settled into a peaceful cohabitation. They didn’t talk except at the Ministry or during meetings, even then they kept it short and business like. Harry never saw Voldemort at the Manor, well he never saw him…just heard him and felt him sit beside him in bed every night. Voldemort had hired a healer, who visited Harry every morning. Harry hated the guy but had to admit that he was competent. His back was healing nicely but he hadn’t regained sensations in his hands

Speaking of the healer, a knock on the door interrupted his thoughts,

“Come in.”

A man dressed in lime green robes stepped into the room. Harry yawned and stretched,

“Speak of the devil…I was just thinking about you Francis and here you are.”

Francis took a seat and smiled but it was obvious to Harry that he was smiling just for the sake of it because it didn’t reach his eyes,

“How are you feeling this morning, Mr. Potter?”

Harry leaned against the headboard and grinned at Francis,

“What do you mean, Francis?”

Harry noticed the tick in Francis’s jaw and relished it. It was so easy to rile him up and it was Harry’s favorite thing to do these days. Francis’s smile wavered but didn’t fall away completely. Harry had to give him credit for that,

“Mr. Potter, are you experiencing any discomfort due to your back?”

Harry shook his head but didn’t vocalize his answer. That was another thing that bothered Francis,

“Mr. Potter, would you care to vocalize how your back feels this morning?”

Harry shook his head again and finally Francis’s smile fell away and the first signs of irritation appeared on his face,

“Lay down on your stomach, Mr. Potter.”

Harry pouted,

“What if I don’t want to?”

Francis sighed and Harry repressed a chuckle. They had played this game every day for that past two weeks. It hadn’t grown the slightest bit boring for him but he could tell that Francis was wary of it,

“Mr. Potter, we play this childish game every day. You are Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. Surely you must be in a hurry to get to work.”

Harry yawned again,

“Have I ever been in a hurry for the past two weeks?”

Francis hesitated before shaking his head and Harry leaned forward and patted him on the shoulder,

“I admire your patience, Francis.”

Francis pulled out his wand and spoke,

“On your stomach, Mr. Potter.”

Harry shook his head,

“What’s the magic word, Francis?”

Francis sighed out in exasperation,

“Would you please lay down on your stomach so that I may examine your back?”

Harry snorted,

“You’re way too polite, Francis. It sounds so fake.”

 Harry wondered when Francis would run off to Voldemort and complain about his attitude. He finally asked,

“Have you ever complained to Voldemort about my attitude, Francis?”

Francis shook his head,

“Would you care to vocalize your reply, Francis?”

Francis leaned back in his seat,

“No, Mr. Potter. I have never complained about your attitude to the Dark Lord.”

Harry laughed out,

“You’re lying.”

Francis straightened up and a hint of embarrassment flushed his cheeks. That was all Harry needed to know that Francis really had been lying and he was embarrassed now that he was discovered,

“So, what did he say when you complained about me?”

Francis bowed his head but didn’t reply. Harry grabbed Francis’s wrist,

“Tell me.”

The look on Francis’s face was of pure defeat and it bothered Harry,

“Mr. Potter, if I am unable to heal you then he shall murder my family.”

Harry released Francis’s wrist,

“Really?”

Francis nodded and Harry pulled a pillow over his lap,

“No wonder you don’t like me. It seems I’ll have to talk to him about that.”

Francis looked absolutely terrified,

“You weren’t supposed to know, Mr. Potter. Please, I am begging you…please don’t tell the Dark Lord that I told you.”

Harry didn’t reply. Francis stood up and grabbed his hand,

“Please, Mr. Potter.”

Harry met Francis’s gaze and nodded,

“Fine, I won’t say anything to him.”

Francis nearly sagged in relief,

“Thank you, Mr. Potter. Thank you so much.”

Harry patted Francis on the shoulder and grinned,

“That doesn’t mean that I’ll stop irritating you though.”

Francis retook his seat and spoke softly,

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Mr. Potter.”

Harry turned over and laid down on his stomach. Francis started examining his back,

“Your back is healing well, Mr. Potter.”

Soon enough Francis started tracing his wand over the wounds and Harry cried out as his back began to sting excruciatingly. He gripped the pillow tightly and squeezed his eyes shut,

“You should be used to this by now, Mr. Potter.”

Harry clenched his jaw shut as the sting worsened. It lasted for a few minutes and the vanished when Francis withdrew his wand. Harry relinquished his hold on the pillow and finally relaxed. Francis gave him a few moments to recover and then spoke,

“Sit up, Mr. Potter.”

Harry laughed into the pillow and whispered hoarsely,

“Magic word.”

There was a smile in Francis’s voice when he spoke next,

“Will you please sit up, Mr. Potter?”

Harry pushed himself up and leaned against the headboard again. Francis took his hands and pulled off his gloves one by one. He conjured a small glass bottle that Harry knew so well by now. He poured the oil on his palm and rubbed his hands together before starting to massage Harry’s hands. He really missed Rabastan at these moments,

“Close your eyes, Mr. Potter.”

Harry closed his eyes. He absolutely hated this part. Francis was going to prick him with a needle any moment now and he was going to feel nothing. For a moment, he felt nothing and then he cried out,

“Owww!”

Francis shushed him,

“Don’t open your eyes, Mr. Potter.”

 Harry was tempted to but he kept them shut. He winced again as the needle pricked him. This time he opened his eyes and realized that Francis had pricked his palm,

“You’re regaining sensations in your hands. That is very promising, Mr. Potter.”

Harry looked at his palms and he felt it…he felt it when Francis touched his fingers. He couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe that this was real…it was a dream…it had to be a dream,

“Pinch me, Francis.”

Francis hesitated before pinching his palm. Harry laughed when he felt the pain but what made him happier was how his fingers barely noticeably flinched. It was amazing. Harry couldn’t keep the smirk from his face even if he wanted to. He was happy, way too happy. Francis kept a hold on his hands, began tracing his wand over them and started muttering an incantation…the incantation he had been hearing every morning for the past two weeks…well it had worked…Whatever spell Francis was using was working. He sat still through the process despite the happiness that was bubbling in his chest and once it was done and Francis had pulled the gloves over his hands, he hugged him. He hugged Francis tight and thanked him,

“Thank you…I know I’m probably the worst patient you have ever dealt with but thank you.”

Francis rubbed his back gently and then rose to his feet,

“I must inform the Dark Lord of this.”

Harry grabbed his wrist and stopped him,

“Don’t…Don’t tell him…”

Francis raised a questioning brow and Harry smiled,

“I want to be the one to tell him.”

Francis smiled warmly and patted him on the shoulder,

“Okay, Mr. Potter. As you wish.”

Francis waved his wand and an array of flasks and phials appeared on his side table,

“Drink your potions, Mr. Potter.”

Harry groaned,

“I absolutely hate them.”

Francis shook his head,

“They are the reason you’re getting better.”

Harry downed the potions under Francis’s watchful gaze. Once he had departed, Harry jumped to his feet, discarded his jeans on the way and made his way to the bathroom. He poured all his favourite scents in the bathtub and waited for it to fill up. When it was halfway full, he closed the faucet and immersed himself in the scented, soapy, water. It felt amazing. He didn’t linger in the water long though. Once he was done, he stepped out of the tub, dried himself off with a towel and began rummaging through his wardrobe. He’d been wearing nothing but robes for the past two weeks but that was going to change today. He wanted to surprise Voldemort…he wanted to share his joy with him…he wanted him to be just as happy as he was feeling right now.

He grabbed his skinniest pair of black jeans, a tight black silk button up and a fitted black brocade waistcoat. It didn’t take him long to get dressed up. He stood barefoot in front of the mirror and regarded his reflection. He looked pale, more pale than usual but well that couldn’t be helped. His eyes were sparkling with joy though and that somehow made up for the paleness of his face. His raven black locks were still moist from the bath and tangled up. He attempted to comb them and managed to disentangle them to some extent but they remained mussed up. He gave up on them and grabbed a pair of dragon hide, steel tipped boots. After pulling them on, he admired his reflection in the mirror. He hadn’t looked like this ever since he had returned. He smirked at his reflection the in mirror. Well, Voldemort was certainly in for a surprise today.


	58. Chapter 58

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you soooooooooooooooo much for 1K kudos. Your love and support really means a lot to me and I really appreciate it. Love you all loads. Hope you continue to enjoy the story as much as I enjoy writing it.

Harry stepped out of the room and made his way downstairs. He was just about to enter the living room when Draco’s voice made him halt,

“Potter, breakfast.”

Harry turned around and noticed that Draco had his gaze lowered. This was another thing that Voldemort had done. Two weeks ago, he had appointed Draco with the responsibility to ensure that Harry had breakfast before leaving for the ministry. Usually, he snapped at Draco or ignored him and left without breakfast because his appetite was literally dead now but today…today he felt like playing with him a bit,

“Draco…sweetheart…look at me.”

Draco never looked up at him anymore and Harry imagined that Voldemort had explicitly ordered him to behave this way. He almost missed the old Draco…almost...Draco kept his gaze fixated on his feet and Harry stepped closer to him. Draco flinched when Harry rested his gloved finger underneath his chin and raised his head. Draco closed his eyes and Harry smirked. Wow…Voldemort must have really terrorized him. He was about to speak again when Narcissa boomed out,

“Get your hands off my son.”

Harry felt Draco’s body loosen up with relief and Harry nearly laughed…He was definitely a Mama’s boy. Instead of letting him go though, he gripped Draco’s chin and instantly felt Draco tense up again,

“Tell your mommy to leave, Draco. I’m in an extremely good mood and she’s ruining it.”

Draco kept his eyes closed and spoke,

“Mother, you should leave.”

Narcissa huffed but refused to move. Harry released Draco’s chin, leaned forward and whispered in his ear,

“Voldemort will not appreciate it if you spoil my mood, sweetheart.”

Draco spoke louder,

“Mother, leave!”

Narcissa was about to say something but thought better of it and stormed off. Harry laughed softly when she was gone. He released Draco’s chin and cooed,

“Come on, sweetheart. Show me those grey eyes.”

Draco didn’t budge and Harry’s smirk widened. He knew deep down Draco hated him, was probably cursing him but Voldemort’s fear was the only thing holding him back,

“I know you still hate me, Draco…hate the way I’ve taken over your home…hate the way you have to bend before me…I want to see that hate again, sweetheart. Show me your old self…your real self… and I’ll never bother you again.”

 Draco took a step back,

“I can’t afford The Dark Lord’s wrath.”

Harry chuckled softly and moved his hand through his hair,

“Does he punish you when he realizes that I don’t have breakfast and you fail to fulfil your responsibility?”

Draco shook his head but otherwise remained silent. Harry knew Draco never got punished because always lied for Draco,

“I’ll have breakfast but for merlin’s sake, open your eyes. I can assure you that I’m not a basilisk. Looking at me won’t turn you to stone.”

Draco shook his head,

“I can’t.”

Harry sighed. This was hopeless,

“You’re a bloody coward, Draco.”

Draco’s eyes flew open and he gripped Harry by the lapels of his waistcoat. Harry smirked when he saw the familiar distaste in Draco’s grey eyes,

“Ever since you’ve come into my life, you’ve ruined everything. First, at the school and now in my house as well. You’re a bastard, Potter…You’re a bloody bastard and I’m jealous of you…Is that what you wanted to hear?”

Harry pulled himself away from Draco and straightened out his waistcoat,

“Don’t be. You wouldn’t be jealous of me if you knew...I’m not worthy of your jealousy.”

Harry’s gaze scanned his surroundings and returned to Draco’s,

“You have a home, a family and your entire life ahead of you. I don’t have any of that. What are you jealous of then, Draco? If anything, I should be the jealous one.”

Draco stood there silent with his lips pursed,

“I don’t understand.”

Harry patted Draco on the shoulder,

“I don’t expect you to.”

He turned around and headed for the fireplace,

“You said you’d have breakfast if I…”

Harry turned around and grinned,

“I lied, Draco. But it’s good to see your old self.”

Ten minutes later, he was making his way through the Atrium and garnering stares from visitors and Ministry workers alike. He hadn’t really been stared at for the past two weeks mainly because he hadn’t dressed up like this. He was making his way past the fountain when he spotted Rabastan and was instantly overwhelmed by the urge to hug him. He’d done so much for him and he deserved to know that he was recovering. Harry stepped closer to him. Rabastan acknowledged his presence and spoke in a low voice,

“You look stunning, Harry.”

Harry had no idea how Rabastan always managed to make him feel so warm inside,

“I miss you, Rabi.”

Rabastan made a show of adjusting the papers in the file he was holding and Harry spoke again,

“I regained sensation in my hands and my fingers moved a bit this morning.”

The file slipped from Rabastan’s hand and the papers scattered all over the floor. Rabastan met his gaze and Harry saw nothing but pure, unadulterated joy in his eyes,

“Harry, that’s amazing. I would hug you right now if I could.”

Harry nodded and attempted to keep his expressions as neutral as possible but he knew his eyes were saying it all and Rabastan grabbed his hand hurriedly and pressed a kiss to it. He released it as fast as he had grabbed it and spoke softly,

“I am so happy for you, Harry. You have no idea how much…”

There were tears in Rabastan’s eyes and Harry stepped forward and resisted the urge to wipe them away,

“I want to hug you too, Rabi. Can I come by your place later?”

Rabastan’s expression instantly shifted and he spoke,

“It’s not viable, Harry.”

Harry shook his head,

“I don’t care.”

Rabastan frowned and his eyebrows creased together. For a moment, he said nothing. Finally, he sighed, gathered his papers with a wave of his wand and turned his back to him,

“No, Harry.”

Harry leaned forward and whispered,

“Try and stop me, Rabi.”

Rabastan walked away and Harry followed him with his gaze until he disappeared into the crowd. Harry knew Rabastan had only said no because of Voldemort…speaking of Voldemort…he still had to surprise him and he should be getting on with it.  


	59. Chapter 59

Harry knew that the wide grin on his face and the skip in his steps was not going unnoticed as he made his way to Voldemort’s office. He pushed open the door and stepped in but the office was vacant. Where was Voldemort? There hadn’t been a meeting scheduled for today or maybe there had been and he just hadn’t been informed. He decided to check the meeting room nonetheless.

Harry was mildly amused by his own thoughts. For one, he shouldn’t be this desperate to see Voldemort in the first place…Who was Voldemort to him anyway? Nothing but an inconvenience in his plans to die peacefully. Secondly, why did he care so much about sharing this news with him? Harry doubted that Voldemort would be happy about it. So, what if he had gotten him a healer? He had probably done it out of guilt because his hands had been rendered useless since he had chosen to protect his memories from Dumbledore’s manipulations. The voice inside his head snorted,

Liar. You know that isn’t the reason he got you a healer. How do you explain his late-night visits?

Harry closed his eyes and tuned it out. He was really going insane. But, he had thought a lot about Voldemort came to his room every night and so far, he hadn’t come up with an answer. He was still a bit perplexed about last night. His back tingled as he remembered the way Voldemort had trailed kisses down it.

Harry shook his head. Time to snap out of it. Thinking wasn’t going to get him anywhere and that stupid voice inside his head was only going to dampen his mood. So before he could contemplate the matter any further, he started making his way to the meeting room and found two death eaters standing guard at the door. So, Voldemort was really here. The Death eaters shared an uneasy glance before the one on the right spoke,

“The Dark Lord is in the middle of some very important negotiations with the Goblins. He has strongly commanded that he does not want to be interrupted.”

Harry quirked up an eyebrow and he noticed how the death eaters tensed up,

“Really? He doesn’t want to be interrupted?”

Harry’s grin widened. Well, wasn’t this just perfect? The death eaters nodded and Harry stepped forward,

“I’ll be sure not to interrupt him.”

Harry could see that they were both panicking because there was nothing they could do to stop him. Voldemort had made it abundantly clear to all his little minions that he was not to be touched,

“Please, don’t go in there.”

Harry patted them on the cheek one by one and spoke softly,

“Don’t worry boys, I’ll tell him you did your best to stop me.”

He pushed open the door with a little more force than necessary. The door banged against the wall and the sound startled most of the goblins seated around the table and made them rise to their feet. Harry’s gaze was fixated on Voldemort though, who was seated at the head of the table as usual and didn’t even look up from the papers sprawled in front of him. The most amusing reaction by far was Bella’s though. She rose from her seat with a murderous expression on her face. Harry knew she was dying to screech out something in that insufferable shrill voice of hers but maybe Voldemort’s lesson had finally sunk in because she did nothing but glare daggers at him. Rabastan however had his head bowed and Harry spotted something like a smile curving his lips. The two death eaters manning the door stumbled in after him and one of them spoke in a voice that was quivering with fear,

“Master, we humbly apologize for the intrusion…He….”

He wasn’t allowed to finish the sentence as Voldemort raised his hand to silence him without looking up and spoke in a cold, icy tone,

“Close the door and leave.”

The death eaters bowed and closed the door as they left. Harry scanned the room and noticed that there were five goblins in attendance and four death eaters. Bella, Rabastan, Nott and Avery were standing on the left side of the long table while the Goblins stood at the right. Voldemort spoke again,

“Shall we continue?”

Harry was absolutely hating the fact that Voldemort hadn’t even spared him a glance. It unnerved him and he fully planned to do something about it. He wasn’t going to let that bastard get away with ignoring him. Bella’s murderous expression was now replaced by a smug grin. She leaned towards Rabastan and whispered something in his ear which made Rabastan grimace and whisper something back that knocked the smugness right off of her face. Harry replaced his smirk and turned to the Goblins who were staring at him like he was from another world. He recognized the head goblin from a picture he had seen in the newspapers recently and greeted him,

“I wasn’t informed that you would be visiting today. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

It wasn’t really but didn’t want to mess up another negotiation. He smiled at the other goblins and continued,

“It’s a pleasure to meet all of you.”

Harry shook hands with them one by one and the head goblin grinned lecherously as he spoke,

“I was expecting you to be present at the negotiations today. I must say, I was a little disappointed when you were not here and upon my inquiry, The Dark Lord stated that you were indisposed. I am very pleased that you could make it. The rumours do not seem to do you justice.”

Harry laughed softly and leaned against the desk casually. He was in no mood to socialize with the goblins but Voldemort had left him no choice by ignoring him. He was certain that Voldemort was positively infuriated. Good…let that bastard simmer a little…He feigned interest and asked,

“What rumours?”

The goblin looked more than delighted that he had asked. Who knew Goblins were such Gossip Girls? The Head Goblin was about to speak when Voldemort cleared his throat and spoke again,

“I believe we have some important matters to discuss.”

Harry pushed away from the table and walked around the table towards where Voldemort was seated. There were several vacant seats available around the table but he wasn’t interested in them. He dropped himself in Voldemort’s lap unceremoniously and adjusted his legs so that they were dangling off the arm of Voldemort’s chair. Voldemort didn’t even flinch. The bastard continued to read through the papers in front of him and that irked Harry. Several gasps echoed around the room but Harry wasn’t concerned. It seemed Bella’s self-restraint finally snapped and she screeched,

“GET OFF HIM!!!!”

Oh, how he absolutely hated that voice. Harry wrapped his arms around Voldemort’s neck and rested his head against his chest. Voldemort still hadn’t looked at him but Harry could tell that he was tempted to. Harry wondered what it would take for Voldemort’s control to snap. He was definitely going to find out. Voldemort finally spoke in a dangerously low voice that was dripping with venom,

“Shut up, Bella, and be seated.”

Harry was beginning to wonder if Voldemort would tell him to get up…fifty percent of him was certain that he wouldn’t and that fifty percent was proved right when Voldemort resumed the negotiations as if there had been no interruptions and he didn’t have anyone seated in his lap. Harry tuned out the boring discussion and focused on how solid Voldemort’s body felt against his, how perfectly their bodies slotted against each other, how pleasant his warmth felt and how alluring his heartbeat was. His arms were still wrapped around Voldemort’s neck and he began tracing circles with his gloved thumbs on his nape.

A shudder ran through Voldemort’s body. Harry was certain that no one else in the vicinity noticed it but he had…he had felt it and it filled him up with so much pleasure because this was the first sign of victory and it was deliciously sweet. He lifted his head up and nipped at Voldemort’s neck…once…twice…thrice…Voldemort didn’t outwardly react but he could tell that Voldemort’s body was steadily growing taut with tension…and it wasn’t just normal tension…Harry knew exactly what it was and he couldn’t help but grin against Voldemort’s neck.

Voldemort stopped talking and Harry felt his hand come up and cradle the back of his head. Harry looked up and realized that Voldemort still wasn’t looking at him which grated on Harry’s nerves. He hated it…absolutely hated it…He didn’t understand why but he did. Why the hell weren’t the bloody goblins leaving already? He looked away from Voldemort’s impassive face and noticed that all eyes were fixed on him and Voldemort. Bella’s mouth was hanging open in an expression of utter shock. Harry couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out from his lips,

“Are the negotiations over?”

Harry felt Voldemort’s long fingers thread through his hair. The head goblin cleared his throat and squeaked out,

“Yes, the discussion was very fruitful.”

Harry smiled brightly and continued to massage Voldemort’s nape,

“That’s absolutely wonderful. This day can’t get any better. We should celebrate this, right?”

His question was directed at Voldemort but Voldemort said nothing and his expression remained as detached as ever so Harry continued,

“Well, he’s such a bore. But I can assure you that we will celebrate this tonight…no wait…I’m busy tonight…tomorrow night then.”

Harry felt Voldemort’s body tense a little more at that and his gaze wavered for a fraction towards Rabastan who was trying to disguise his mortification. He raised his head and pressed a kiss to Voldemort’s jaw and spoke softly,

“Do you agree with that, Lover?”

Voldemort said nothing and Harry smiled and turned his attention back to the Goblins who looked flummoxed,

“Right, anyways, it was nice meeting you all. I hope to see you tomorrow night. I’ll make you sure you get the invites by tomorrow.”

The Goblins rose but Harry made no move to leave Voldemort’s lap. He turned to Bella and drawled out,

“Bella, would you be a dear and escort our distinguished guests out?”

 Bella looked like she had been slapped. Harry knew she was itching to curse him but she wouldn’t dare. Harry watched her gaze travel to Voldemort and he saw her plead to him with her eyes. Voldemort finally spoke,

“Bella, escort them out.”

Bella looked crushed and Harry’s smile widened. She moved to the door and held it open as the Goblins filed out one by one and followed them. Once the door was closed. Harry straightened up in Voldemort’s lap and bit his earlobe.

“You know you spoiled my mood. Now I won’t tell you what I came here to tell you.”

Voldemort finally turned his gaze towards him and Harry saw something akin to pure lust in them,

“You will not?”

Harry pouted and nodded his head silently. Voldemort’s crimson eyes shone with mischief as he licked his lips and draped an arm over his waist,

“We shall see about that.”


	60. Chapter 60

Harry knew…he knew he was setting himself up for a long, hard fall and no one was going to catch him. He should back out now…he should just get up before this went too far. Where the hell was that inner voice now when he needed it? Damn it…Damn everything…The way Voldemort was looking at him made the fall look so tempting, consequences be damned.

Voldemort’s long fingers were fiddling with the buttons of his waistcoat while his other hand stroked his hair. Harry could tell that Voldemort wanted to kiss him. He decided to give him some incentive and licked his lips invitingly. Voldemort’s gaze darkened further with lust and he had just bent over to kiss his lips when Harry turned his head at the last moment and Voldemort’s lips landed on his cheek. Harry laughed and Voldemort’s grip tightened on his hair. Rabastan was staring at him…them…with an expression that resembled pure awe, but Nott and Avery looked utterly flabbergasted,

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, boys, I know you were waiting for your beloved Master to kiss me senseless but that’s not going to happen and this is the part where you leave us.”

Voldemort was trailing kisses down his cheek and every brush of those soft lips against his skin made heat coil inside Harry’s stomach. Rabastan, Avery and Nott rose to their feet, bowed…not that Voldemort was paying them attention now…and left. Once they were gone, Voldemort arm tightened around his waist and his lips pressed against Harry’s neck. Harry instantly placed his hands on Voldemort’s chest and shoved him back playfully,

“Oh no, you don’t!”

Voldemort raised his head and smirked devilishly,

“I thought you thoroughly enjoyed it last time.”

Harry removed one of his hands from Voldemort’s chest and began tracing his lips with his gloved finger,

“I’m not yours. You can’t mark me.”

Voldemort held Harry’s hand and stopped him,

“I can make you mine.”

Harry leaned back and grinned,

“We’ve already had this conversation.”

Voldemort sighed and pressed a kiss to the inside of Harry’s wrist,

“You wished to tell me something?”

Harry didn’t pull his wrist away from Voldemort.  The gesture was too tender and Harry enjoyed how good it felt,

“Yeah, I did before you started ignoring me and ruined my mood.”

Voldemort released his wrist and smirked,

“It is pleasing to know that it affects you. I should employ that tactic more often.”

Harry laughed and straightened up again,

“Try ignoring me again, Lover. I will make you sorely regret it.”

Voldemort brushed his knuckles against his cheek,

“I do not doubt that, my little Villain.”

Harry scoffed,

“There is nothing little about me.”

Voldemort’s released his hold on his waist and his hand came to rest on his thigh,

“Oh, I wholeheartedly agree with that.”

Harry slapped his hand away,

“Your death eaters should see what a creepy old pervert their master is.”

Voldemort yanked him up and covered Harry’s mouth with his in a hungry kiss. As their lips crushed together, he felt like he was walking on air. It was magic…pure magic. The way their lips connected. Voldemort mouth was so warm, the caress of his lips softer than Harry remembered and he opened his mouth with a low moan. Their tongues clashed, battling it out for dominance. Voldemort started stroking the nape of Harry’s neck softly and Harry melted…Voldemort’s tongue claimed his mouth dominated it and all Harry could do was moan and revel in it. He wrapped his arms around Voldemort’s neck again and pulled himself closer to him as much as he physically could. Voldemort stroked the ends of his hair as he kissed him to oblivion. When they parted for breath, Voldemort laughed softly,

“It seems like you enjoyed how the creepy old pervert just kissed you.”

Harry was still catching his breath. He felt hot…way too hot. He traced his moist, swollen lips with his tongue and felt Voldemort’s erection rubbing against his thigh. His own tight jeans felt tighter. This was getting out of hand. Slowly, he rubbed his thigh against Voldemort’s erection and Voldemort’s laughter died down and he bit his lip to hold back a groan,

“The creepy old pervert enjoyed it more than me.”

 Voldemort’s stared pointedly at the visible bulge in Harry’s jeans and bit out,

“More than you?”

Harry pulled himself to his feet and tried to think of anything other than Voldemort for a minute to get rid of it. It was nearly impossible when Voldemort was sitting inches away from him and the sexual tension between them was crackling. He rested his elbows on the table and leaned back on it. Voldemort rose to his feet and his crimson eyes were smouldering with lust and desire like twin embers. He rested a finger on Harry’s throat and began tracing it down…moving over his chest, his stomach and coming to rest over a spot right above the button of his jeans,

“Are you aware of what I am currently thinking, Harry?”

Harry smirked and nodded,

“You’re thinking about ripping apart my clothes and taking me right here on this table.”

Voldemort pressed down on that spot with his finger and Harry felt something like lightening shoot through his system. Oh, he wanted it…he wanted it so bad…Voldemort’s naked skin against his, his hands and mouth all over his body…he wanted him inside himself. Harry’s throat felt too dry and his voice sounded scratchy when he spoke,

“Keep thinking, Lover. But that’s not going to happen.”

 Voldemort pushed him back and Harry’s elbows gave out and his torso was instantly flat on the table with his arms trapped underneath him. Voldemort nudged his ankles apart, spreading his legs and came to stand between them, he leaned over him until his chest was rested on his and his face was hovering inches above his. They were so close that they were breathing in each other and Harry could practically count Voldemort’s eyelashes. Voldemort’s breath ghosted over his lips and Harry’s chest rose and fell in perfect rhythm with Voldemort’s. He knew he should move but his entire body had been taken over by the overwhelming desire that burned deep in his bones, combined with eccentric panic, and lust.

“You are the personification of pure, sinful temptation, Harry.”

Harry met Voldemort’s crimson gaze that was heavy with want, adoration and wonder,

“Why do I find it so difficult to resist you? Just one glance at you shatters my self-restraint into tiny splinters.”

Harry wanted to turn away his gaze but Voldemort’s hands came to rest on either side of his head, trapping it effectively. Voldemort laughed,

“If this is the power that was mentioned in the prophecy then I am most certainly vanquished.”

Harry held Voldemort’s gaze and spoke,

“It’s not true. The prophecy isn’t true.”

Voldemort cupped his cheek,

“And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives. You shall most certainly be the death of me, Harry.”

Harry closed his eyes,

“You’ll live, Lover. You’ll live because I won’t survive.”

Voldemort removed his hand from his cheek,

“Open your eyes.”

Harry opened them and met Voldemort’s gaze. He grinned, raised his head and pressed a kiss to Voldemort’s chin,

“I mean look at me, Lover. I have a knack for messing with people and before long one of your death eaters or Nicholai or Dumbledore or someone else from the order or maybe even you will kill me. I’ve got way too many people after my blood and it’s only a matter of time before they catch up with me and…”

Voldemort clamped a hand down over his mouth and growled out,

“No one shall hurt you…You are not going to die…I will not allow it.”

Harry laughed despite the ache he was starting to feel in his heart and cooed when Voldemort removed his hand from his mouth.

“Awww…Has someone gotten a little too attached?”

Voldemort caressed his cheek but made no move to reply. So, Harry spoke instead,

“This is not going to last forever, Lover.”

Voldemort bent down and buried his face in the crook of Harry’s neck,

“This?”

Harry was distantly aware of the fact that his arms were nearly asleep but that didn’t matter because his heart was currently bursting with pain in his chest. He was fighting off tears,

“Us. You and I…What we have between us…it’s not going to last…I’m going to leave, Lover.”

Voldemort kept caressing his cheek but his face was hidden from view now and Harry could only stare up at the ceiling,

“You always talk about leaving, Harry. You have never mentioned why you must leave and where you need to go. I could take you there. I could lay the world at your feet. Just say the words.”

A hollow chuckle left his lips,

“The valley of death is my destination. I would love for you to come with me but you’re not too fond of death.”

Harry heard how Voldemort was inhaling him in and felt how he was pressing feather light kisses to his neck and shoulder. Voldemort remained silent for a while and then spoke,

“I shall gladly accompany you, Harry. I would easily give up all my tomorrows just to be there with you...just to have you…Immortality…all this power…all this wealth does not mean anything if I cannot have what I want.”

The tears burst forth like water from a dam, spilling down his cheeks. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying desperately to get a grip on himself. Trying to put the dam back together. Something about the way Voldemort had said those words told Harry that he meant them…He meant it…Why would Voldemort say something like that? Why was he saying things like that and torturing him? Was he even aware of the pain Harry was experiencing now all because of his words. The voice in his head kept chanting that one word over and over again but Harry refused to listen to it…refused to believe it… He had to correct this before Voldemort thought he hadn’t been joking. He spoke in a low voice,

“Who knew that The Dark Lord would turn out to be such a homeless romantic? I have actual tears in my eyes, Lover.”

Voldemort raised his head and Harry fixed a grin on his face. Voldemort’s crimson eyes were warm and beautiful and he wiped away the tears from Harry’s cheeks,

“Perhaps you need to get a hold of your fantasies of death, Mr. Potter.”

Harry laughed and pushed Voldemort off him,

“I don’t have fantasies of death.”

Voldemort stepped back and Harry stood up straight. His arms breathed out a sigh of relief at being freed and he stretched them and massaged them. Voldemort did a perfect imitation of his voice,

“The valley of death is my destination.”

Harry felt the weight of sorrow vanish into thin air and he giggled uncontrollably. The mood felt lighter between them again and Harry was so grateful for it,

“First off, you suck at imitations. Don’t do them again…ever. Secondly, I don’t sound like. And thirdly, you’re right. That does seem a little melodramatic.”

Voldemort’s imitation kept echoing in his mind and he couldn’t stop laughing. He controlled himself, looked up at Voldemort and then slipped back into laughter,

“I’m always going to hear that whenever I look at you and start laughing like an idiot. I think you’ll have to obliviate me,”

Voldemort stepped closer to him and the look in his eyes made Harry stop laughing,

“You are absolutely stunning.”

Harry was glad…so glad that the crisis was averted. He pecked Voldemort on the cheek,

“I came here to tell you something.”

Voldemort’s eyes lit up with intrigue and he wrapped an arm around Harry’s waist,

“Tell me.”

Harry had shared his biggest secret with him so now this news seemed nothing in comparison…not anymore. He brought his gloved left hand up to his lips and gripped the material of the silk glove firmly between his teeth. He pulled the glove off using his teeth and Voldemort watched the act with undisguised mesmerisation. Harry took the glove from his teeth in his other hand and spoke,

“Pinch me, Lover.”

Voldemort’s mesmerized expression turned into confusion and Harry eyed his hand,

“Pinch my palm.”

Voldemort took his hand carefully with the palm facing upwards and pinched him. Harry closed his eyes. He wasn’t sure it would happen again but the way Voldemort pulled him into a tight embrace proved that it had,

“Harry, you are recovering so well. A celebration is certainly in order.”

Voldemort pressed a kiss to the top of his head and asked,

“You mentioned to the Goblins that you were occupied tonight.”

Harry pulled away from him and raised an eyebrow,

“Why are you asking?”

Voldemort sighed and rubbed his hands over his face,

“I do not wish to have a repeat of what happened last time. Will you be leaving the Manor?”

Harry crossed his arms over his chest but didn’t reply,

“I shall take your silence as a yes. Will you be coming back?”

Harry turned his back to him,

“If I were planning to leave for good I wouldn’t have given away my plans. Honestly, you act so stupid sometimes. It’s hard to believe you’re the fearsome Dark Lord.”

Voldemort gripped his arm and spun him around,

“You are the one acting stupid. You are perfectly aware of what will happen if Dumbledore gets his hands on you again. You are only beginning to recover from your last encounter with him.”

Harry yanked away from his grip,

“If you don’t want me to go out then chain me up. Otherwise…I’m bored of that bloody Manor and your pureblood death eaters that think they’re better than the rest of the world, I’m going out tonight and you’d better not follow me or have me followed.”

For a moment, Harry thought Voldemort was going to chain him up but he didn’t do anything and spoke,

“What do you intend to do if Dumbledore takes you again?”

Harry walked to the door and stopped with his hand on the knob,

“I intend to teach him what happens when he messes with a horse that can’t be broken.”


	61. Chapter 61

Harry kicked open the door to his office and stomped in. Umbridge immediately jumped to her feet to greet him. Ignoring her completely, he made his way to his chair. She just wasn’t fun anymore…always seeking his approval…always trying to flatter him. He had liked her better when she had been a sadistic bitch. He had no doubt that deep inside she still was and he also knew that she probably fantasized about torturing him all the time but she just didn’t show it anymore and he despised it. Why did people have to be such hypocrites? Maybe he was one too.

He collapsed in his chair and started coughing. His covered his mouth with one hand and began rummaging through his drawer, for a handkerchief, with the other. Of course, he didn’t find it. Things had a habit of disappearing right when he needed them. He stopped rummaging and held the edge of the table as his cough grew more insistent and his chest and stomach started aching like hell. He felt something soft against his hand and when he opened his eyes, he found a pink handkerchief lying in front of him on the table. He picked it up and held it over his mouth as he bent over the table and rested his forehead against the cool surface of the wood, trying to ease the excruciating pain in his stomach. It passed but Harry didn’t straighten up. Breathing was the most difficult action to perform at the moment and he concentrated on taking one breath after another as steadily as possible. Once he had the pattern under control, he sat up straight and looked at the now crimson handkerchief. He slid it over the desk towards Umbridge with a grin,

“Thanks.”

She looked up from the file she was working on and grimaced at the sight of the bloody wad. She pushed it back towards Harry with the edge of her quill with disgust apparent on her face and breathed out,

“Keep it, My Lord.”

Harry picked up the glass of water from the table and downed it in one but the metallic, bitter taste remained in his mouth. He picked up the blood-soaked handkerchief and was glad that Dumbledore had tortured him. He didn’t have to panic about people seeing the blood if he was about to have a coughing fit. Harry had expected Voldemort to tell the world about his weakness and vulnerability. He had expected Voldemort to tell everyone that he had been tortured By Dumbledore and his hands had been rendered useless in the process but Voldemort hadn’t and no one knew. The only thing Voldemort had told everyone was that Harry was not to be messed with, no matter what he did. Besides, this wasn’t the first cough attack he’d had the ministry. He had them frequently…in fact he’d had the first one in a meeting when Voldemort and most of his important death eaters had been present. Voldemort hadn’t outwardly reacted and continued the meeting as if nothing had happened. Harry had been glad about that. He tossed the handkerchief back on the table and spoke,

“What’s on my agenda today?”

Umbridge conjured a file and began looking through it. Finally, she spoke,

“You are required to preside over a hearing today.”

Harry groaned and covered his face with his hands. He hated the courtrooms and the entire bloody Wizengamot which coincidentally he was a part of as well. He hadn’t presided over a hearing before though. Voldemort had presided over all of them and he had been present there in the capacity of Senior Undersecretary,

“Why isn’t Voldemort presiding over it?”

Umbridge shuffled through the papers and spoke,

“The Dark Lord is meeting with the delegation from the French Magical Department today.”

Harry picked up a file marked urgent from the stack on his side of the desk and began thumbing through it,

“When is it?”

Umbridge closed the file and her amusement was obvious in her voice,

“It starts in an hour, My Lord.”

Harry didn’t care about what Umbridge found so amusing as two more files popped up on the stack. He was more concerned about the ever-growing stack of files on his desk,

“WHERE IN THE BLOODY HELL IS BELLA?”

He was about get up and go look for her himself when the door opened and Bella sulked in. Her expression brightened up visibly when she caught sight of the blood-soaked handkerchief on the desk. Harry knew she absolutely loved watching him in pain and he was pretty certain that she wished for his death every second but unlike Umbridge she expressed her hatred for him…well only when Voldemort wasn’t around…and that was the only thing he liked about her. Harry glared at her and pointed to the stack,

“Get to work, Bella.”

Bella was still eyeing the handkerchief and when she was seated, Harry balled it up in his hand and tossed it in her lap. She jumped up to her feet with a disgusted screech and the handkerchief dropped to the floor. Harry focused his attention back to the file in his lap and crooned with a grin,

“You were eyeing it with such longing. I thought you wanted it.”

He could practically feel Bella glaring daggers at him but he ignored her and addressed Umbridge instead,

“There’s a party tomorrow night.”

Umbridge ahemed annoyingly and the sound grated on his nerves,

“Perhaps a celebratory ball is a more appropriate word.”

Harry shrugged,

“Give it whatever fancy pureblood name you want. What I want is for you to get the invitations ready for that.”

Harry thought for a moment before adding,

“The Goblins will be in attendance. I’ll be delivering the invite to the Goblins personally so make sure you have them ready by this evening.”

Bella looked like she was bursting to say something and Harry drawled,

“Speak your mind, Bella.”

Bella scowled,

“Mind your own business. Those decisions are for The Dark Lord to make.”

Harry laughed,

“He’ll go with whatever I decide. I think that was made very clear this morning.”

That shut her up perfectly and Umbridge asked,

“The venue, My Lord?”

Harry picked up his file again and replied dispassionately,

“Malfoy Manor.”

The hour passed uneventfully and Harry finally got up from his seat and stretched. The hearing was about to start. He was about to exit the office when Umbridge cleared her throat,

“The Wizengamot robes, My Lord.”

Harry scowled. He absolutely loathed those plum covered robes and he’d only worn them to the hearings before because Voldemort was presiding over them and insisted that he follow the traditions. Today was a different case. He was in charge and he wasn’t going to wear those terrible robes,

“Nope, not wearing them.”

Bella sneered and muttered something under her breath about him being a half blood and not deserving to wear them anyway. Harry would have ignored her comment but it fitted on Voldemort as well and that filled him up with rage. He stalked up to her and spoke,

“Why don’t you tell that to Voldemort as well since he’s a half blood too or better yet I’ll tell him your views on this matter. I’m sure he’ll find them absolutely entertaining.”

Her enjoyed the terror those words instilled in her. It seemed she hadn’t forgotten the last punishment. Harry looked at the clock and tsked,

“Look what you did. Now, I’m late for the hearing.”

He moved his hand through his hair and was about to open the door when someone knocked on it. He pulled it open and found a death eater standing there, holding a tray laden with a plate full of sandwiches, a glass of pumpkin juice and two phials of potions. Harry sighed. He hated how Voldemort had made him his number one priority. He could always skip breakfast because Voldemort wasn’t at the Manor in the morning and Draco was easy to intimidate. He couldn’t skip his meals at the ministry because there were too many people who were ready to tell on him…Bella and Umbridge were on top of that list because at the ministry they were responsible to ensure that Harry ate regular meals and took his potions on time,

“I’m running late for a hearing. I’ll have that later.”

Bella rose to her feet,

“Not later. Now. The Dark Lord has issued very specific orders about your meals.”

Bella was smiling way too smugly and he wanted to wipe that expression off her face. This was the one matter regarding him that Voldemort had given her a free hand in. She was authorized to force the meals down his throat if he refused. So far, he hadn’t given her an opportunity but he knew that Bella was dying to do it. He nodded at the death eater and spoke,

“Follow me.”

Harry stopped and asked,

“Where is the hearing?”

Before Umbridge could reply, Bella piped up cheerfully,

“Courtroom ten.”

Harry shook his head in exasperation. His day had started off great but now it was steadily growing terrible. He couldn’t wait for this day to be over. Harry was growing mildly suspicious about all this. First, he was presiding over a hearing. Second, Umbridge had seemed amused when she had told him about the hearing. Third, Bella seemed oddly cheerful about it and lastly, it was taking place in courtroom ten…of all the courtrooms in the ministry. Something was definitely up. Harry only grew more suspicious as Bellatrix was positively jumping with excitement through the elevator ride down. Harry almost pitied the death eater still holding the tray. They made their way through the corridor. Somehow, this time, the door to the department of mysteries didn’t fill him up with grief. It only made his heart twinge a little but that was it. He turned to the stairs and the sound of people talking in hushed whispers caught his attention. As he turned the corner and stepped into the corridor that contained the door to courtroom ten, he came to a complete standstill at the sight in front of him. Damn it! He should have known...


	62. Chapter 62

The corridor burst to life and the hushed whispers turned into full blown shouts of excitement as the reporters rushed towards him. His gaze scanned the line of prisoners…yup that was exactly what they were as they were dressed in the grey and white striped Azkaban uniform, outside the courtroom. Harry forced his hands into the pockets of his jeans and put up his most nonchalant expression. Rabastan had mentioned that Voldemort had apprehended some of the important order members and most of them had been his so-called friends. He had forgotten that bit of information over everything that had happening for the past two weeks and Voldemort hadn’t brought it up either.

Judging by the way he was being swarmed by reporters, Harry figured that this hearing was a big deal and that made him a bit anxious. Harry couldn’t discredit Voldemort in front of all these reporters and he would have to be on his most professional behaviour. Harry smiled leisurely and started walking while a thousand questions were thrown his way. He was aware of Bella’s gleeful cackles. Was she expecting him to have an emotional breakdown at the sight of his long-lost friends? They weren’t his friends…Not anymore and even though Harry cared about some of them, he didn’t feel much more than that at the moment. As he was passing the line of prisoners, he felt the weight of several gazes upon him. Did they still expect him to save them? Bella’s juvenile insults towards the prisoners made Harry halt in his steps and he spoke loud enough so that everyone could hear him but not so loud that it would be classified as shouting,

“Shut up, Bella.”

Bella quietened almost immediately and even though he could feel her glare burning a hole at the back of his head, he didn’t care. He spotted Rabastan waiting at the entrance of the courtroom with a look of disapproval on his face. Harry shrugged casually and pointed at Bella and the death eater still trailing after him with the tray in his hand. Rabastan’s expression softened and a faint smile graced his features before disappearing. Rabastan led him inside the courtroom and up to the highest bench. The Wizengamot was all present and Harry felt several judgemental glares being shot his way. He was good at ignoring them and followed Rabastan to the front where three chairs were placed. Normally the middle one was occupied by Voldemort and the right one was occupied by him but Harry figured that since Voldemort wasn’t here to preside over the hearing, that middle chair was his. He plopped down on it and signalled the death eater to place the tray in front of him on the table. Rabastan occupied the seat to his left and Bella was about to sit down on the seat to his right when Harry spoke,

“Nope. You’re not sitting there.”

Bella looked like she was going to throttle him. Harry turned to the death eater who had been carrying the tray and spoke softly,

“Come and take a seat.”

 The man hesitated and his gaze lifted towards Bella. Harry laughed softly,

“Don’t worry, her bark is worse than her bite.”

Bella was about to lunge at Harry when Rabastan jumped to his feet,

“Bella, don’t do anything that you’ll have to regret later.”

Rabastan nudged the death eater towards the chair,

“Go on, sit.”

The death eater sat down hesitantly. Harry patted him on the shoulder and turned back to Bella,

“Do you know why I didn’t let you sit?”

Bella was gritting her teeth so Harry continued talking,

“First off, that’s my chair. Voldemort gave me his, so I can give mine to anyone I want. Secondly, you came here to make sure that I finished my meal, by your own discretion. I distinctly recall that I didn’t invite you. So, you can stand there and watch me finish my meal and then you can leave.”

Harry picked by a sandwich from the plate and turned to Rabastan,

“Can we get started now?”

Rabastan nodded and ordered a nearby death eater to have the prisoners brought in. Harry finished his sandwich in two bites and took a large gulp from his glass of pumpkin juice. The cool, sweetness helped the constant bitter taste in Harry’s mouth. Harry picked up another sandwich and watched as the prisoners were seated on the lower benches. The golden chair in the center of the room remained unoccupied. Harry took a bite from his sandwich and after swallowing it asked Rabastan,

“So, how is this supposed to work? Are they all supposed to have a separate hearing or are they all going to be judged at once.”

Rabastan bowed his head,

“The Dark Lord has left everything up to you.”

Harry snorted,

“This is a recipe for disaster.”

Harry heard a soft, barely audible chuckle leave Rabastan’s lips as he pushed a thick file towards him. Harry opened it and began flipping through the pages. It had details on each and every prisoner. Harry flipped to the end and found what he was looking for…the charges. It wasn’t anything Harry hadn’t expected, Treason, Conspiracy against the government etcetera etcetera. Someone from the Wizengamot spoke,

“My Lord, shall we begin the hearing?”

Harry didn’t miss the hint of annoyance in the tone and looked up from the file. He knew the entire Wizengamot shared the sentiment and he took another bite of his sandwich just to spite them further. After swallowing and finishing the rest of his pumpkin juice, he downed his potions and pushed the tray away,

“Get out, Bella. Your job here is done.”

Bella stormed out of the courtroom and Harry leaned back in his seat,

“We can start now.”

Harry signalled the death eater to refill his glass and cast a glance around. The arrangement wasn’t very different from the day he’d had his hearing here more than a month ago. But the tables had turned. They had there to support him that day…today they had no one to support them. He knew the protocol but he was going to damned if he followed it today. He didn’t need a written list to announce their names,

“Arthur Weasley, Molly Weasley, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Nymphadora Tonks, Mundungus Fletcher, Fred Weasley, George Weasley, Ron Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan, Cho Chang and Hannah Abbott.”

Harry paused and covered his mouth with his hand as he coughed. Rabastan pushed the now refilled glass of Pumpkin juice towards him and Harry took a sip,

“The main charge against you is treason against the government. I believe there is no need for introductions since you all know me so well but even then, I’ll give you a brief overview of who you’re dealing with. The interrogators for the day comprise of myself, Harry Potter, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic and Rabastan Lestrange, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.”

He leaned back in his seat and surveyed the crowd in front of him. They looked hopeful and that irked Harry,

“If I had this my way, this trial would have taken place before you were carted off to Azkaban but as you may have heard, I was absent when you were taken under custody. Nevertheless, it’s taking place now and justice will be done.”

He flipped back to the start of the file and spoke,

“I might not be following the usual protocol but there’s supposed to be a witness for the defence.”

Kingsley Shacklebolt spoke in his deep voice that resonated throughout the courtroom,

“We were not given the opportunity to have one.”

Harry pulled out the heavy leather-bound tome from underneath the table that contained all the rules and regulations of the Wizengamot and checked the index for rules regarding the witness for the defence. He flipped through the book, found the correct section and a quick scan told him everything he needed to know,

“Do you want a witness?”

It was Mr. Weasley that spoke,

“Yes. We do.”

Harry spoke,

“The rules suggest that in the absence of a witness, whomever is presiding over the hearing may or may not appoint one. Since that’s me, I’m going to go with may not because a witness is not necessary. There is no case to be argued here and I’m not going to get into the nitty gritty of things.”

 Several protests from the Wizengamot made Harry smirk and Harry heard Rabastan whisper,

“Harry, you can’t just spare them all.”

Harry picked up the rule book and dropped it heavily on the table. The loud thud that reverberated through the courtroom was enough to silence everyone. He addressed the Wizengamot,

“I believe there are more civilized and coherent means to voice your opinion. The last time I checked, shouting wasn’t one of them.”

Harry didn’t miss the joy that was on the faces of the inhabitants of the lower benches. That was their mistake. He hadn’t said anything about sparing them. A stern voice from the Wizengamot spoke,

“You cannot simply dismiss the charges due to your personal affiliation with the accused.”

Harry reclined back in his seat and spoke calmly,

“Firstly, I can do whatever I want. This court is my domain today and my word is law. If you believe otherwise, you are free to take the issue up with Voldemort. Secondly, I haven’t said anything about dismissing the charges so you might all need to have your ears cleaned or maybe old age is finally settling in and there’s simply no way for you to salvage your hearing.”

The joy he had seen earlier was gone replaced by dread and a little hopelessness. He addressed the prisoners now,

“As I was saying, the charges are very clear and I believe they are true to some extent based on my past experience with the order. However, I’m not averse to giving second chances and therefore I have decided to give you a choice.”

He leaned forward, rested his elbows on the table and interlaced his fingers,

“If you are willing to denounce Dumbledore and allege your loyalty to Voldemort then I will free you this very moment. If you still choose to side with him then it will be back to Azkaban for you.”

That name left a bitter taste on his tongue and Harry’s eyes forced themselves shut as a shiver ran down his spine and flashback of all the torture he had endured played on the forefront of his mind. Harry felt a familiar warmth course through him as Rabastan leaned closer and rested his hand on his thigh. Harry opened his eyes and saw an extremely troubled expression on Rabastan’s face. Harry flashed him a reassuring grin but the concern didn’t fade from Rabastan’s eyes and his hand remained on his thigh. Which was good because the heat from Rabastan’s palm was anchoring him to the present and keeping him from drifting back into those dark moments,

“Have you made a choice?”

For a moment, there was no reply. Finally, the twins rose to their feet and spoke,

“We’re ready to leave the old fool.”

Luna joined them and Harry smiled genuinely as something akin to joy flooded his heart,

“That’s absolutely wonderful.”

Harry saw the disgust and disapproval in Mrs Weasley’s eyes and soon enough it was apparent on everyone’s faces, everyone that wasn’t Fred, George or Luna. Hermione spoke,

“Harry, have you forgotten everything Professor Dumbledore did for you? Have you really forsaken his kindness?”

Rabastan’s hand on his thigh was the only thing keeping him from getting up and telling Hermione exactly what Dumbledore had done for him and all his kindnesses. In fact, he was more than willing to show her his scarred back and his lifeless hands. But that wouldn’t sit well with the reporters present in the courtroom and he had vowed that he would remain on his best behaviour. He smiled despite all the rage that was burning him up inside and spoke in a voice that was cool and uninterested,

“I haven’t forgotten anything. In fact, I remember it all far more clearly then you do.”

Hermione crossed her arms over chest, the perfect picture of self-righteousness,

“Professor Dumbledore is working to fix all this, Harry. This…All of this isn’t right…This isn’t a government, it’s a tyranny. Voldemort is a monster and he is oppressing the people.”

Rabastan’s fingers were practically digging into his skin now and Harry could feel himself shaking with rage. He pulled his elbows away from the desk and felt them ball into fists underneath the table. Rabastan gripped his wrist with his other hand and began stroking soothing circles on it with his thumb. It was difficult to get the words out and Rabastan understood that and spoke in a smooth voice,

“I propose a vote…All those in favour of sentencing the accused to serve ten years in Azkaban raise their hands.”

A sizeable amount of hands went up in the air. Rabastan continued to soothe Harry with his thumb and announced the sentence,

“You are hereby sentenced to serve ten years in Azkaban. This conviction is non-negotiable and non-appealable.”

Rabastan paused and then spoke,

“Fred Weasley, George Weasley and Luna Lovegood, you are hereby cleared of all charges and free to go.”

Harry rested his head on the table and closed his eyes. Rabastan announced,

“Court is adjourned.”

Harry ignored the sounds, the voices, the shouts for mercy, the angry insults and the conversations as the prisoners were led out and the Wizengamot began filing out of the courtroom. When everything was silent, Rabastan spoke,

“Harry.”

Rabastan’s voice was soft and warm but it did nothing to cool the storm brewing Harry’s chest. Harry rose to his feet, picked up the tray and tossed it down where it landed with a loud clatter. The half-filled glass of pumpkin juice caught his eye and he flung it to the floor too where it shattered into a million tiny pieces. Harry was looking for something else to throw when he was wrapped into a tight embrace. The warmth that enveloped him was more than enough to throw him off the edge and a choked sob escaped his lips,

“Rabi…”

Everything felt like it was falling away and Harry held on tight to the one thing that felt solid amidst everything, Rabastan…Rabastan’s infallible love and affection…Rabastan’s undying loyalty,

I’ve got you…I’ve got you, Harry…”

The storm brewing in Harry’s chest finally broke loose and it rained. Harry cried over Rabastan’s shoulder uncontrollably,

“It’s all over…You’re fine...Everything’s alright.”


	63. Chapter 63

Harry had no idea how long Rabastan held him and continued to soothe him. He made no attempt to step back even when the tears stopped and Rabastan made no move to release him,

"Rabi…"

Rabastan rubbed his back gently,

"I'm here, Harry. Talk to me."

Harry buried his face deeper into Rabastan's shoulder but didn't know what to say. The truth was he didn't understand what had happened. That old bastard may be a major part of his emotional outburst but he wasn't the sole reason. Harry felt Rabastan's lips brush against his cheek and his grip tightened on Rabastan's robes,

"I'm worried about you, Harry. You've never cried like that…not even when…"

Rabastan stopped and when he spoke again, his voice was heavy with emotions,

"Not even when I was whipping you."

Harry kept his eyes closed and murmured,

"Stop feeling guilty about that."

He felt Rabastan's fingers thread through his hair and Harry felt like falling asleep right there and then,

"I trust you, Rabi. You're the only person I trust in this world at the moment. You've never let me down and I owe you my life for saving me. I just want you to stop feeling guilty about what happened. You did what you had to do and now when I think about it, I'm actually glad it was you."

Harry could feel that Rabastan was crying from the little sounds that were escaping from his mouth,

"Don't trust me, Harry. I don't deserve it."

Harry held onto him tighter. He turned his head and coughed,

"You do…You're the only one that does deserve it."

Rabastan went silent for a minute and then he started leading him to the chair. Harry resisted. He didn't want to let go of him yet. Rabastan sighed fondly and sat down in the chair pulling Harry with him so that he was seated in Rabastan's lap, but it was different than when he had been seated in Voldemort's lap mainly because Voldemort exuded pure lust and Rabastan exuded nothing but pure and innocent warmth and affection. Harry wrapped his arms around Rabastan's neck and curled into his lap while Rabastan pulled Harry closer to his chest. After a minute of silent soothing and gentle touches, Rabastan asked,

"What made you cry, Harry?"

Harry had nearly dozed off and Rabastan's question brought him back to awareness,

"I don't know."

Rabastan didn't speak for another minute, just continued to stroke his hair and rub his back. His voice seemed distant when he spoke again,

"I have a theory."

Harry couldn't bring himself to care about it because he felt way too peaceful in Rabastan's arms and he just wanted to drift off to sleep. So, when he spoke, his voice conveyed his sleepiness perfectly,

"What is it?"

Rabastan spoke in a low gentle voice that was ten times more potent than any lullaby,

"You're falling asleep."

Harry could only nod. Rabastan laughed softly and spoke,

"You do know that I'm the head of the department of Magical Law Enforcement."

Harry didn't care. He should but at the moment he didn't. The world be damned, he was selfish and at this moment, he wanted Rabastan…needed him,

"I don't care. Right now, you're mine."

Rabastan went very still for a moment but then he started combing his fingers through his hair again and spoke in a very low voice,

"I'm yours."

Harry liked that answer so he sighed contentedly, buried his face deeper in Rabastan's chest and fell asleep to his heartbeat.

Rabastan knew the exact moment when Harry fell asleep. Harry's entire body relaxed and loosened up in his arms and his breathing evened out. He was concerned…more than concerned. Watching Harry cry was the most terrible torture he had ever endured. He had always seen Harry strong and fiercely defiant. Seeing him so weak and vulnerable tore a gaping hole in his soul and he was willing to do anything to correct that. He had an idea about the cause of Harry's emotional breakdown but he wasn't sure if it was right. Harry wasn't an easy person to understand. He remembered the joy on Harry's face this morning when he had been with The Dark Lord. Of course, he had felt envious of The Dark Lord at that moment. He wanted to be the one kissing Harry, holding him, touching him but Harry's happiness had mattered more…his happiness would always matter more. Right now, he felt accomplished because Harry had trusted him with his emotions, he had cried on his shoulder and he was sleeping peacefully in his lap. But his sense of accomplishment only lasted for a second before he remembered what Voldemort had made him swear. He couldn't even be Harry's friend anymore. He couldn't allow him to trust him. He didn't deserve it.

A rustling of robes, forced his gaze upwards and he saw The Dark Lord standing in front of him with murderous intent glinting in his eyes. His gaze was fixated on Harry's peacefully asleep form curled up in his lap. Rabastan watched as The Dark Lord opened his mouth to say something but Harry's coughing interrupted him. The coughing stopped but Harry's breathing remained uneven and his grip tightened on Rabastan's robes. He rasped out in his sleep,

"Don't let go of me, Rabi."

Rabastan could only wrap his arms around Harry's waist. He looked up at The Dark Lord, daring him to stop him, to wake Harry up or take him away but The Dark Lord stood impassive with a curious glint in his crimson eyes. Rabastan murmured softly,

"I've got you."

Harry went still again and his breathing grew deep and even once again but Harry's grip remained on his robes.

His first thoughts upon seeing Harry asleep in Rabastan's arms was to rip that bastard to shreds…kill him in the most painful way possible for touching what was his. Rage and jealousy burned in his chest but Harry's words acted like cold water and doused those flames in an instant. Harry had sounded desperate, weak and vulnerable. The Harry in Rabastan's arms wasn't the Harry he knew. He found himself asking,

"What happened, Rabastan?"

He watched as Rabastan combed his fingers through Harry's raven black locks and he spoke in a low murmur,

"You should know better than me, My Lord. After all, he spent most of the morning with you."

Oh, the nerve of him. One killing curse was all it would take to shut him up and separate him from Harry permanently. Harry's grip on Rabastan's robes pulled him away from his murderous thoughts. Harry would never forgive him if he took Rabastan away from him. He couldn't understand why Harry was so attached to Rabastan. He couldn't understand the nature of Harry's relationship with Rabastan. It intrigued him and perplexed him because he was certain that Harry didn't tell Rabastan everything. He had thought that Harry had merely been manipulating Rabastan and using him but this…this didn't fit in with that theory. He raised his eyebrow and asked,

"Elaborate your statement, Rabastan."

Rabastan met his gaze and spoke,

"He was upset and no one affects him. No one except you, My Lord."

Harry was upset? That was a surprise. He had seemed a little irked when he had left his office but that was because he had inquired about his excursion plans for the night. Maybe it had been because of the hearing. That wasn't the point though. The point was Rabastan's insolence. He admired this show of defensiveness but Harry didn't need defending. He was more than capable of defending himself. If something he had said had upset Harry then he would have come and taken it out, probably shouted it out instead of carrying it in his heart. No, this was about something else and he was betting on the hearing,

"I admire your sentiments but I have not upset him. Harry is quite vocal when something displeases him."

He watched Rabastan contemplate that. The urge to take Harry away from him was tempting but Harry seemed too content. He didn't look that peaceful when he visited him every night and watched him sleep. He turned his back to them and spoke,

"You and I shall be having a word later, Rabastan."

For a moment, there was silence and then Rabastan spoke,

"I am willing to endure any punishment, My Lord, but I shall continue to be whatever Harry wishes me to be…whatever role he needs me to play…"

He spun around and saw the iron resolve on his face, in his eyes,

"He is playing you, Rabastan and you are a fool to let him because he will break your heart."

Rabastan's gaze shifted to the form in his arms and he spoke,

"My Lord, I believe you should be more concerned about yours."

His fingers itched to squeeze the life out of that imprudent bastard. He narrowed his eyes and spoke,

"I do not possess a heart and I fully intend to rip out yours very soon."

Rabastan merely laughed softly,

"Forgive me, My Lord, but you did possess one. It seems Harry has recently stolen it."

That infuriating little…He balled his hands into fists and disapparated before he did something he would come to regret later.

Harry woke up an hour later, Rabastan was smiling and Harry smiled back,

"Hey, Sleepyhead. Did you sleep well?"

Harry laughed softly, straightened up and pressed a kiss to Rabastan's cheek,

"I slept wonderful. Thank you."

He rose to his feet, yawned and stretched. Rabastan spoke as he rose to his feet,

"You didn't tell me what happened, Harry? Did something happen with The Dark Lord? You seemed perfectly happy with him this morning."

Harry let his arms fall to the sides and spoke,

"No, nothing happened with Voldemort."

Rabastan raised an eyebrow,

"Then what happened, Harry?"

Harry leaned back against the table and looked at his shoes,

"I don't know, Rabastan. I honestly don't know. It was stup…"

Rabastan rested a finger on his lips and stopped him,

"Don't finish that. I think I know what happened."

Rabastan removed his finger and Harry met his gaze,

"What?"

Rabastan cupped his cheek,

"You've been suppressing your emotions, Harry."

Harry stared at him open mouthed for a while before bursting into raucous laughter. This was just preposterous but maybe there was some truth in it,

"Really? That's not true."

Rabastan cupped his other cheek as well. Harry averted his gaze. He couldn't lie to Rabastan,

"Look me in the eyes and tell me that you haven't been suppressing your emotions, your sentiments simply on account of the fact that they are frivolous."

Harry didn't reply and didn't meet Rabastan's gaze. Now that he thought about it, it probably was true. The only two people who really made him feel something were Voldemort and Rabastan. Apart from them, he didn't feel much. His hatred for Bella was still there but hatred wasn't a feeling. Hating Bella was his passion. About a month ago, when he had come here to attend his hearing, he had cried when he had seen the door that led to the Department of Mysteries. Today he hadn't even flinched. He had thought the world of Mr and Mrs Weasley once, he had been so grateful to them for their hospitality, he had considered them family and today…today he hadn't cared about any of that and sent them to Azkaban. He had been through so much with Ron and Hermione. All the adventures they'd had together, all the times, they'd nearly died…none of that had mattered to him today.

Why? Because they all worshipped Dumbledore…They kissed the very ground he walked in. It disgusted him that he had been one of them. He felt sickened when he thought about how idealistic he'd been. How firmly he had believed that Dumbledore was an angel…a good man. He'd seen a reflection of his old self in everyone he had sentenced today and that had sickened him, nauseated him. A few months ago he had believed what Hermione had said. He had believed that Voldemort was a monster. Now, he knew better. Voldemort's cruelty was nothing compared to Dumbledore. When he had been presiding over the hearing, he had felt nothing for them, the choice had been so clear. He hadn't thought twice but when Rabastan had passed the sentencing, Harry had been overcome by all the emotions at once. Guilt for not helping them, anger at Dumbledore for manipulating them, betrayal because for a moment he had hoped that they would choose him over Dumbledore, sorrow because things could have been better but most of all he felt hatred towards himself at the moment. He looked at Rabastan and cursed internally for his own stupidity. How long had he been in this courtroom? How long had he slept in Rabastan's lap and risked his safety?

"Harry…"

Harry shrugged away from Rabastan's touch and gritted out,

"I don't want to talk about this."

Rabastan spoke softly,

"This is important, Harry. I'm very concerned about you."

Harry couldn't bear it. Harry had risked his well-being and Rabastan was still worried about him. This needed to stop now…before Harry lost him…before Voldemort found out and hurt him. He slammed his hands down on the table,

"No…I don't need your concern, Rabi. I don't need you to coddle me. I'm a selfish, heartless bastard. I used you…I used your feelings, your emotions, I manipulated them and twisted them to fit my needs."

To top it off, Harry plastered a sardonic grin on his face and winked,

"Sorry, but, I'm not sorry, Rabi."

Rabastan took a step back. Harry didn't miss the disappointment on Rabastan's face, the dejection in his eyes as he turned away from him and walked out of the courtroom. When the courtroom door slammed shut, Harry's legs turned to jelly and he collapsed on his knees. This was for the best. He didn't trust himself…didn't trust the yearning he felt for Rabastan's warmth, his affection…Now that Rabastan would hate him, Harry would never yearn for it again

Get up…Get up…

Harry didn't want to get up, didn't have the strength to get up. He brought his knees up to his chest and buried his face in them. Rabastan was better off this way. This was for the best. His heart wasn't convinced though. Rabastan was the best thing that had happened to him and he had lost that. He felt absolutely devastated.

Suck it up and get on with it. You deserve all this misery.

Harry wiped away a few stray tears and rose to his feet. He deserved it. He really did. He made his way back to the office, his mask of indifference firmly in place. He opened the door and found Voldemort seated in his chair. Umbridge wasn't there and Harry wanted to groan out. What did he want now? Harry didn't have the mental capacity to deal with this,

"Did your office burn down?"

His inquiry didn't sound as stinging as he wanted it to be. He dropped down in the chair, Umbridge usually inhabited,

"Harry, I wanted to commend you on a job well done. The Wizengamot is highly impressed by your neutrality and I am proud of how maturely you handled the situation."

Harry leaned back in the seat and stared up at the ceiling,

"Right. You've commended me. Now can you please leave. I have work to do."

Voldemort made no move to get up so Harry grabbed a file in frustration and opened it,

"Did something happen, Harry?"

Harry chuckled humourlessly,

"Yes, you're in my seat and I absolutely hate it."

Harry continued to flip through the pages, his thoughts were focused on the dejected look in Rabastan's eyes and his heart broke a little more. When it was evident that Voldemort wasn't going to be getting up anytime soon. Harry grabbed a stack of files, balanced an inkwell and quill on top of it and stormed out of the office.

He dropped down in a spot on the side of the corridor, sat cross-legged down on the floor and set down the stack in front of him. He should have gone to Voldemort's office but the man would have followed him there as well and at this moment, Harry wanted to be as far away from him as possible. He leaned back against the wall and began flipping through the file. He was perfectly aware of the incredulous stares he was garnering but he couldn't bring himself to care. He scribbled notes where needed, crossed things out, marked out errors and then moved on to the next. When was the day going to be over? He couldn't wait to get some fresh air into his lungs. He was yanked out of his thoughts as he felt a vice like grip on his upper arm and he was shoved to his feet. Harry knew without looking that it was Voldemort and he pushed away from him,

"Don't touch me."

Voldemort's grip on his arm remained as tight as ever and his voice was lethal when he spoke,

"Get in your office. You are creating a scene."

Harry pushed him away,

"I haven't started yet but if you want a scene then I can certainly honour your wish."

Voldemort's fingers retracted from his arm and Harry picked up the files from the floor and the inkwell. He stepped into his office and Voldemort followed him,

Harry dropped the files on the table and shucked the inkwell against the wall, where the black ink spattered the wallpaper and the inkwell dropped to the floor with a clang,

"What the hell do you want from me?"

Voldemort closed the door and crossed his arms over his chest,

"Why are you upset?"

Harry pretended to think before grounding out,

"Apart from you annoying me?"

Voldemort stepped closer to him and Harry raised a hand,

"Stay away from me."

In a flash, Harry was pinned to the wall and Voldemort's hand was pressing down on his throat. Harry kicked and struggled against him,

"Do you want me to call Rabastan? Perhaps, he shall manage to cheer you up."

Harry went stock still and his eyes widened as the full force of Voldemort's statement hit him.


	64. Chapter 64

Harry cursed internally. Voldemort must have seen them together or someone had seen them and informed Voldemort. All his efforts to keep Rabastan away from harm had just been wasted and Harry felt absolutely frustrated. Well, he wasn't going to let that happen. He was not going to let anything happen to Rabastan. There had to be a way to salvage this situation and he had to start by schooling his features. So, he did. He pulled up his mask of cold indifference and held Voldemort's gaze,

"Yeah, he was rather good at that."

He felt triumphant when he saw a flicker of doubt creep into Voldemort's crimson eyes,

"Was?"

Harry threw his head back and laughed. Voldemort's hand was still on his throat but he rather liked the touch,

"Was. Honestly, he was the only one of your death eaters that was open to me. I needed an underling and he was the perfect candidate. He worshipped me and that was absolutely perfect."

Voldemort released him and took a step back. Harry faked disappointment and cooed,

"So, not going to strangle me then? I have to admit I was looking forward to that."

Voldemort's face betrayed nothing as he leaned back against the desk and spoke in a calm voice,

"You were using him?"

Harry rested a hand on his heart in mock offense,

"Are you accusing me?"

Voldemort quirked up an eyebrow and Harry grinned derisively as he let his hand fall and sat down in his chair,

"I wasn't using him. I was manipulating his sentiments and he was being exactly what I wanted him to be. There's a difference."

Voldemort stepped closer to him and leaned over him. Harry made sure that he didn't break eye contact. He had to make Voldemort believe what he was saying. Voldemort caressed his cheek with his thumb and spoke in a low, soft voice,

"What else did Rabastan do for you besides cheering you up?"

Harry pushed his hand away from his cheek and laughed softly,

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

He rose to his feet,

"All you need to know is that there wasn't any sex involved. So, you can breathe easy."

Voldemort instantly gripped his chin in a bone shattering hold and spoke,

"I hope you understand that I shall be having a very detailed meeting with Rabastan tonight."

It took all of Harry's willpower to keep his concern for Rabastan locked away in his heart and stop it from showing on his face,

"No."

Voldemort leaned closer to him and whispered in his ear,

"No?"

Harry tried to get away from Voldemort's grip and repeated,

"No, you aren't going to be needing an entire night to interrogate him. His heartbroken state will give you all the evidence you need."

Voldemort released Harry's chin and nipped the spot right underneath his ear,

"You told him?"

Harry resisted the urge to gasp and spoke,

"Yes. I had no further need of him so I simply told him the truth. He was extremely heartbroken. I did you a favour though so you owe me now."

Voldemort arm was wrapped around his waist and he was sucking on his earlobe. Harry bit down on his tongue to stop the moan that was threatening to escape his lips,

"Favour?"

Harry nodded imperceptibly and Voldemort bit down on the shell of his ear,

"Yes, favour. He pledged his loyalty to me and betrayed you behind his back. I broke his heart and now I am certain that he'll never betray you again. In fact, his loyalty to you will be stronger than it was before."

Voldemort pressed a kiss to his neck and his hand around his waist was the only thing keeping Harry upright,

"Don't mess it up, Lover. Your follower needs his benevolent, merciful master. I had my reasons to be cruel to him but if you're harsh to him too then he'll be forced to seek salvation elsewhere and that elsewhere could be Dumbledore. I'm sure Rabastan would prove to be an invaluable asset to Dumbledore."

Voldemort whispered against his skin,

"He won't be invaluable to anyone from his grave."

Harry's heart threatened to explode with pain at that thought. No…No, he wasn't going to let that happen. He wanted to push Voldemort away but Voldemort was more agreeable when he was latched onto his body,

"You're being unreasonable. We have a war coming up and we need all the people we can get. Rabastan will do anything for you. His loyalty is a precious thing to possess."

Harry wrapped an arm around Voldemort's waist as Voldemort undid the top two buttons of his shirt and kissed his collarbone,

"Promise me you won't kill him, Lover."

Voldemort growled against his skin. Harry moved his hands over Voldemort's hips and squeezed,

"Promise me and I'll let you mark me."

That was it. Voldemort pulled his mouth away from his collarbone and ground out,

"I promise I shall not kill or maim Rabastan."

And then Voldemort was unbuttoning Harry's waistcoat and pulling it off him. His shirt was pushed off, exposing his right shoulder and Voldemort was kissing him, every inch of his exposed skin. Harry felt much calmer now. Rabastan was safe. He was going to be alright. He held on tight to Voldemort's hips as the man's lips moved over his shoulder and then he felt it. That intoxicating mix of pleasure and pain as Voldemort sucked a mark on his shoulder. He let his head fall on Voldemort's shoulder and a moan escaped his lips. He was burning up with arousal and he knew Voldemort was no different. He wanted it to go on forever as Harry allowed himself to get lost himself in that heady rush of pleasure. Voldemort started using his teeth, grazing them against his skin over and over again and Harry couldn't help but whimper as the pleasure spiked up and reached a new high. It stopped though and Harry felt Voldemort's lips pull away. He wasn't ready to come down yet but he knew he had to.

Harry pulled his head away from Voldemort's shoulder and took a step back. Voldemort's eyes were a deep shade of red that nearly bordered on black and his pupils were blown with desire. Harry had a feeling his face was showing his desire perfectly as well. He turned his head and looked down at his shoulder. A deep reddish-purple mark stood in stark contrast to his pale skin. He touched it with his finger and enjoyed the tiny rush of pain that shot through his body. He grinned up at Voldemort and spoke,

"Feeling better now, Lover? I knew you wanted to do that since this morning,"

Voldemort was observing at him appreciatively,

"Actually, I do enjoy seeing you utterly debauched and knowing that I am the reason for it."

Harry smirked rakishly and began correcting his shirt. The fabric grazed against the bruise causing him to wince and Voldemort chuckled softly,

"It shall remind you of me every time you move."

Harry decided not to retort as he picked up his waistcoat from the floor and dusted it off. He pulled it on and asked while buttoning it up,

"Where did you send Umbridge?"

Voldemort leaned casually against the desk as he corrected his hair,

"She is preparing the invites for your celebratory ball tomorrow evening."

Harry snorted as he sat back in his chair and pulled a file towards himself,

"Celebratory ball sounds so pompous."

Voldemort took the file from him,

"Umbridge informed me that you wished to hand deliver the invite to the Goblins."

Harry leaned back in his seat and met Voldemort's gaze,

"Yeah, that's right. I thought I was going to head out in the evening so I might as well deliver their invite to them personally. I think they'll appreciate the gesture immensely."

Voldemort stepped away from the desk,

"You have not changed your mind about going out this evening?"

Harry took the file back from Voldemort and spoke,

"No, I haven't. I told you I'm sick of the Malfoys and I need a break. I don't understand how you haven't grown tired of them or why you even live in their house."

He paused and then spoke,

"Come to think of it. You're just as homeless as I am."

Harry realized what he'd just said and he expected Voldemort to be offended or angry but the expression on Voldemort's face could only be described as thoughtful at best. After a moment, a smirk crossed Voldemort's lips and he spoke in a velvety soft tone before departing,

"Have fun tonight, Harry."

Something about that tone of voice and Voldemort's statement didn't sit well with Harry. He tossed the file back on the table and began pacing the office. He knew Voldemort was playing mind games with him. This was just another trick. He was certain that Voldemort would have someone trail him but he wasn't worried about that anymore. He had initially planned to visit Rabastan but that wasn't possible now. So, now his plan was to wander around and explore Knockturn Alley a bit and enjoy some alone time. Harry sighed and looked at the clock. He couldn't wait to get out of here but he still had three more hours to go. Harry looked at the files waiting for him on the table but he didn't feel focused enough to work. He was worried about Rabastan though. What if he had hurt him a little too much? What if Rabastan did something to harm himself? No…That…It wouldn't happen. Rabastan was strong willed. He wouldn't do anything like that. But something inside him wasn't satisfied.

Harry cursed and rushed out of the office. He had to see him. Just one look to make sure that he was fine. It didn't take him long to get on the elevator and navigate his way to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Harry kept his calm veneer firmly in place and thought of a good excuse for his presence here. Harry recognized one of the death eaters as Rabastan's secretary and inquired,

"Is Mr. Lestrange present in his office?"

The secretary shook his head,

"I am sorry, My Lord. But Mr. Lestrange was summoned by The Dark Lord five minutes ago."

Harry thanked him but cursed internally. This was getting tiring. He really didn't want another encounter with Voldemort albeit the fact that both encounters had been extremely pleasurable but there was only so much he could take. He had an excuse to confront Voldemort though. That last statement certainly deserved some explanation. He began making his way to Voldemort's office and once he was there he took a deep breath, made sure that his face betrayed nothing of the storm currently devastating his heart and pushed open the door. Voldemort was seated in his chair and Harry saw Rabastan's back. He had his head bowed but Harry didn't miss the tension in his shoulders. Something inside Harry broke at the sight.

Harry stepped into the office and closed the door behind him. He leaned against the wall as casually as possible and crossed his arms over his chest,

"Explain."

Voldemort quirked up an eyebrow questioningly but Harry didn't miss the amusement in his eyes,

"You can't tell me to enjoy my night just like that. I know you had a hidden meaning behind that. Are you going to have me tailed? Or will you spy on me yourself?"

Voldemort chuckled softly. Harry resisted the urge to look at Rabastan but a sideways glance told him all that he needed to know. Rabastan looked deathly pale and broken. Harry felt his heart crying tears of blood. What had he done? Voldemort's voice forced him to focus and keep his face as expressionless as possible,

"Those are tempting choices but something has come and I shall be occupied tonight. You have claimed that you are perfectly capable of looking after yourself so I believe in your abilities and hope that you enjoy your time."

Harry wasn't interested in this conversation. He was feeling devastated and he was itching to make Rabastan feel better. But he had to keep this conversation going and he forced himself to smile lazily,

"Riiight, you have no idea how creepy you sound. This is definitely not like you."

Voldemort laughed again and turned to Rabastan,

"You see, Rabastan. I am trying to be accommodating and he still does not trust me. Have you ever known me to comply to anyone before?"

Rabastan's voice was low and weak when he spoke and it took Harry all of his self-restraint not to burst into tears,

"No. My Lord."

This was becoming too much and Harry spoke as nonchalantly as possible,

"What is he doing here? Did I interrupt something important?"

Voldemort rose to his feet and walked around the desk to stand behind Rabastan's chair. Everything inside Harry froze with terror as Voldemort rested his hands on Rabastan's shoulders and whispered softly,

"Tell him about our discussion, Rabastan."

Harry kept his expressions schooled and faked a yawn,

"If it's some official matter then spare me."

Voldemort hands moved from Rabastan's shoulders and touched his face,

"Rabastan was just telling me about how you broke his heart."

Harry felt like a monster but be laughed. He pushed himself away from the wall and stepped closer to him. He crouched infront of him and took Rabastan's face in his hands,

"Look at me, Rabi."

Rabastan kept his gaze lowered and Harry saw a tear slip down the corner of his eye. Harry instantly caught it on the tip of his finger and sucked on it. The salt burned his tongue, his insides and Harry's heart screamed in excruciating agony,

"Look at me."

Rabastan finally looked up and met his gaze. There was too much pain in Rabastan's eyes and it became increasingly difficult for Harry to hold back his tears and keep that awful derisive smirk plastered on his face,

"It wasn't anything personal. You're handsome and a wonderful person. I'm the monster here. I should be feeling bad for what I did. It shouldn't be the other way around. In fact, you should be celebrating that you're finally free from me. Everything's going to be alright, Rabastan. You're going to be alright."

He patted Rabastan's cheek and rose to his feet. Voldemort pulled his hands away from Rabastan's face and spoke,

"You really should be celebrating Rabastan. Harry is quite the villain and the fact that he deemed you worthy enough to make you feel better should be enough to make you happy."

Harry cleared a space on Voldemort's desk, sat down and chuckled,

"Awww is that a complaint, Lover? Are you saying that I don't make you feel good?"

Voldemort laughed and Harry watched his crimson eyes alight with joy. At least someone was happy with the entire outcome. Harry just felt like drowning himself. He covered his mouth with his hand and coughed. Rabastan's voice sounded a bit stronger when he spoke,

"May I have permission to leave, My Lord?"

Voldemort patted Rabastan's shoulder and spoke,

"Yes, Rabastan. You may."

Rabastan dropped from the chair, onto his knees and kissed the hem of Voldemort's robes,

"Forgive me for my transgressions, My Lord."

Something about seeing Rabastan on his knees grated on Harry's nerves but he locked his gaze with Voldemort's as Voldemort spoke,

"You are forgiven, Rabastan. May your loyalty never waver again."

Voldemort pulled Rabastan to his feet and embraced him but his gaze was fixed on Harry's and Harry kept his expressions as neutral as possible and spoke as cheerfully as he could,

"Yay. Happy endings all around."

Voldemort released Rabastan and he bowed before walking out of the office. Just as he was walking out, Umbridge stepped on the threshold and spoke,

"My Lord."

Voldemort beckoned her in and Harry noticed that she was holding a stack of gold embossed envelopes. He hoped off the table and grabbed the envelopes from her before she could hand them to Voldemort,

"Took you long enough."

He began flipping through the envelopes looking for the one addressed to the Goblins when an envelope caught his eye and something like dread gripped his heart.


	65. Chapter 65

Harry cursed verbally and saw Umbridge practically jump with fear. He tossed the invite at Voldemort who caught it effortlessly,

"You invited the vampires despite the fact that I absolutely hate Nicholai."

Voldemort merely chuckled and that got on Harry's nerve. He flipped through the rest of the invites without paying much attention and pulled out the one addressed to the goblins. He dropped the rest of them on the floor and was about to stomp out of the office when Voldemort spoke,

"You need not worry. I am certain that Nicholai will not be attending and send Marcus in his stead."

Harry walked out of the office without deigning Voldemort with a reply or a backward glance. Voldemort didn't know what Harry knew. Nicholai wasn't going to let this opportunity go. He was going to turn up and demand that Harry hold up his end of the deal. Oh, he was in trouble…so much trouble. He didn't need to deal with this on top of everything that was going on.

Once he was back inside his office, he dropped the envelope, locked the door with trembling hands and allowed the maelstrom to consume him. Emotions swirled inside his heart as streaks of fire burned his cheeks. Each new wave a hot trail of agony as his shoulders shook with each rake of emotion through his frame. The fire of shame and pain burned just under his skin and a deep emptiness filled his heart as the sentiments brewed over and boiled past the seams he could no longer hold together. His breathing hitched as his knees grew weak and he slumped to the floor.

Everything Rabastan had done for him flashed in front of his eyes and he had to clamp a hand over his mouth to muffle the howl of agony that left his lips. Guilt was eating and pestering him. It was burning his mind and throat. Remorse hit him like a sledgehammer. He could feel daggers sinking into every inch of his body and the pain consuming him. He wished for a Time Turner so he could go back, rectify the mistake…the worst of all he had done. However, he could not. A Time Turner would only make things worse. He had to live with it for the short time he had left. Remorse etched at his heart. Guilt gnawed at him like a worm at the core of an apple. He banged his head against the door over and over again as he cried and coughed and attempted to muffle the distressed sounds escaping his lips.

He lost track of time…lost track of himself…But when he finally managed to get a grip on himself, he pulled away his hand from his mouth and saw his blood-soaked gloves. He rose to his feet shakily, threw open the drawers of his desk and pulled out the extra pair Voldemort had gotten him. Once he had changed his gloves and wiped his face clean. A quick glance at the clock told him that he still had time left. He slumped down in his chair and just stared up at the ceiling,

"I'm so sorry, Rabi…I'm just so sorry…"

Voicing it only made the ache grow worse. He wanted to fall at Rabastan's feet and beg him for forgiveness. He would do anything to have his warmth and affection back…

NO! Haven't you ruined him enough already?

Harry rested his forehead against the cool surface of his desk and cursed the voice in his head. It was right…it was so right. But he didn't know how to deal with this pain and he was certain that the bloody voice in his head wouldn't give him any help on that. He banged his fists on the table in frustration. He needed to forget Rabastan…needed to stop thinking about him but he couldn't…couldn't get his face out of his head…couldn't stop thinking about his smile and his warm arms and his pure affection.

Don't go there.

Right, he wiped his thoughts clean and rose to his feet. Maybe some fresh air would do him good. He rose to his feet and regarded his reflection in the mirror. Despite the fact that his eyes looked a little swollen, he didn't look like he'd just had a meltdown. He rehearsed his most nonchalant expression and once he was satisfied, he turned away from it and noticed the gold embossed envelope lying by the door where he had dropped it. He picked it up, unlocked the door and stepped out of his office.

His first stop was going to be Diagon Alley. The invite was just an excuse, his real purpose was to get some gold out of his vault and since he didn't have a wand anymore, he could use the invite as a subtle bribe. He made his way down to the Atrium and managed to floo himself to Diagon Alley without any interruptions.

He wasn't even stopped at the Gringotts entrance. In fact, the guards welcomed him like he had never seen them welcome anyone else and one of them even led him inside to the Head Goblin's office. His post certainly had some advantages. The Head Goblin greeted him cheerily and Harry faked some cheerfulness of his own despite how much it sickened him. Once he was seated, Harry watched the goblin eye the envelope in his hand greedily. He smiled as brightly as possible and slid across the desk. The goblin snatched from the desk and spoke,

"Mr. Potter, we are honoured that you graced us with your presence and delivered this personally. How can we be of service?"

Harry sat up straight in his seat and decided to inflate the Goblin's ego. Flattery was going to get him everywhere,

"The honour is all mine. I enjoyed your company immensely this morning. Besides, it is my belief that Goblins deserve the utmost respect and reverence of wizards for the immense responsibilities they shoulder."

His words had the desired effect on the Goblin and he puffed his chest out,

"Mr. Potter, you are most kind and we Goblins value your thoughts immensely."

Harry pretended to be flattered, lowered his lashes and gave his most modest smile,

"You flatter me, Sir."

That honorific was the last straw because the Goblin looked like he was going to burst open with pride and self-importance,

"Surely there must be something we can do to serve you, Mr. Potter."

Harry pretended to think about and spoke,

"Well, if you insist. I would like to withdraw some gold from my vault."

The Goblin looked a bit disappointed and spoke,

"That is just a meagre service, Mr. Potter. There must be something more we can do for you."

Harry rose to his feet and shook the Goblin's hand,

"It is sufficient for now."

The goblin grinned and held onto his hand. Harry repressed a shudder and thanked the heavens when he was being escorted to his vault by another goblin. Once inside his vault, the goblin provided Harry with a charmed pouch. He filled it up with as much as gold as he'd figured he'd need, closed ot and slipped it in the pocket of his jeans with ease. It didn't weight at all and it didn't take any space either.

On his way out of Gringotts, Harry met the Head Goblin again, thanked him for his everything and was on his way. It was dark now and he headed straight for Knockturn Alley and moved through the dark streets. All manners of odd wizards and witches crowded them and Harry felt himself being subjected to several judgemental stares but he was immune to them. A clothing shop caught his eye and he pushed open the door and walked in without much thought. A wizard sat at the counter with a copy of the evening Prophet open in front of him. Harry noticed a picture of himself on the front page that looked like it had been taken outside the courtroom. Ignoring it he made his way to the racks and began shuffling through the clothes on display. A dark green silk shirt captured his attention and he observed it closely. The front was plain but an inscription along with a picture of the grim reaper holding a heart in his bony hand was embroidered with silver thread on the back. The inscription read, "It's not my fault the reaper holds my heart." Harry laughed and the man on the counter finally looked at him. Harry was mildly amused to see how shocked the man was.

He ignored him and looked down at the shirt again. The inscription was so true and fitted him so perfectly. He was definitely getting this. He picked out a few more shirts, some skin-tight jeans and a set of deep crimson robes that had a beautiful symmetrical pattern embroidered on them with gold and black thread. They somehow reminded him of Voldemort's eyes and looked like they would fit the man. He was getting tired of seeing him in black robes all the time. He deposited his selections on the counter and snapped his fingers at the man who was gawking at him like he was some outwardly magical creature. The man shook himself out of his stupor and began packing the things quickly,

"It's an honour to have you in my shop, Mr. Potter."

Harry gazed around the shop and spoke,

"I like your shop."

He looked at the man who looked a bit dazed but then he spoke,

"Can I interest you in something special?"

Harry thought for a moment before nodding,

"Sure."

The man's face lit with happiness,

"Give me a minute, Mr. Potter."

Harry smiled at him,

"Take five."

The man hurried away to a backroom while Harry rummaged through the racks to pass the time. It didn't take long for the man to reappear with a wooden box in his hand. He set it down on the counter and Harry walked over. He wasn't expecting anything special but when the man opened the box. A gold locket lay in it. It was as large as a chicken's egg. An ornate letter 'S', inlaid with many small emeralds, glinted dully in the diffused light. Something about it just pulled at Harry so he picked it out of the box and turned it over in his fingers. The thing looked perfect, pristine. And then he felt it. Was it his own blood pulsing through his veins that he could feel, or was it something beating inside the locket, like a tiny metal heart. He tried to prise the locket apart with his fingers but it didn't work. Nevertheless, he was absolutely fascinated by it and spoke,

"How much do you want for it?"

The man spoke without hesitation,

"Two hundred Galleons."

Harry laughed,

"That's a lot for a money for a little locket. What's so special about it?"

The man looked at the locket in Harry's hand and spoke,

"This is Salazar Slytherin's Locket, My Lord."

Harry moved his thumb over the S,

"Oh really?"

The man nodded and Harry felt that there was some truth to his statement because of how the locket felt,

"Where'd you find it?"

The man hesitated for a moment but then he spoke,

"I bought it from someone else."

Harry laughed,

"Really? And how much did you pay for it?"

The man bowed his head and mumbled something,

"Can't hear you."

He looked up and spoke,

"I can't lie to you, My Lord. I paid fifty galleons for it. You can have it for free if it pleases you."

Harry chuckled softly and patted him on the hand,

"I don't mind the fact that you charged me three times more than what you paid for it. In fact, I like it and I'm definitely buying it."

He pulled out his pouch. He wasn't about to start counting two hundred galleons so instead he dumped a large amount of them on the counter that looked like they were more than enough. The man pulled out his wand and with and the galleons began hoping into the cash register one by one at an incredible rate. They stopped moving when only a quarter of them remained and the man pushed them back towards Harry. Harry spoke,

"You didn't charge me for the clothes?"

The man smiled,

"Consider them a present, My Lord."

Harry deposited the leftover galleons back in the pouch and dropped the locked in with them before pushing it back in his pocket. He looked at the packed bundle of clothes and spoke,

"Could you have them delivered to Malfoy Manor?"

The man looked a bit uncomfortable and Harry spoke,

"Tell them that the package is mine and no one is allowed to touch it. They won't bother you once they know it's mine."

The man nodded and Harry extended his hand. He shook it and Harry smiled,

"Pleasure doing business with you."

The man bowed his head,

"The pleasure is all mine, My Lord."

Harry left the shop fairly happy with his purchases especially the locket. He breathed in the cool night air and continued down the street. He felt better…not completely fine but definitely better than he had felt an hour ago. The sound of music playing at a distance caught his attention and his feet began leading him in that direction. Harry noticed a crowd of people around the source of it. He walked closer and realized that people were lined outside a…Harry looked for a board or a sign that indicated the name of the place and what it was…But he found nothing…A bulky man in black robes was guarding the entrance. It didn't take a genius to put two and two together. He was standing outside a club…although the nature of the club still eluded him because the queue of people outside the club only contained of guys…Harry singled most of them out as wizards but he spotted a few hauntingly beautiful individuals in the line and he chalked them up to Vampires. A smirk crossed his features as he noticed a couple making out against the wall.

So…This place was like a magical gay club. Wow…he hadn't imagined a place like this existed. For a moment, he stood in the shadows and contemplated whether he should go in or not. That was a no brainer. This was exactly what he needed to stop thinking about Rabastan but he wasn't going to wait around in a line and he would stir up a storm if someone attempted to stop him on the grounds of him being underage. He strode towards the entrance and the bulky wizard that guarded it. The man gave him a once over. Harry fixed a smirk on his face and quirked up an eyebrow, daring the man to stop him. The man's widened as recognition flashed in his eyes. He bowed his head and pulled away the velvet rope from the entrance,

"Mr. Potter…it's an honour to have you here."

Harry wasn't unaware of the other wide-eyed stares he received from the people waiting in the queue. He smiled at the man, thanked him and proceeded into the club. It was like he had walked into another world. Hazy smoke swirled on the floor. An array of blues, acid greens, hot pinks and gold lit up the space. The music was loud enough to drown out all his thoughts and he was perfectly happy with that.

He scanned the writhing bodies on the dance floor. Skin shining with sweat, hips and arms an invitation and a celebration of sex. It was weird…not the bad kind of weird…the good kind of weird…It made him realize that he hadn't lived at all and now his life was so close to over. He was glad though…glad he had gotten a chance to experience this…Had he ever felt this kind of freedom? No, he hadn't. And he probably wouldn't have experienced it if he had remained under Dumbledore's thumb. He also realized another thing. He was in desperate need of a bucket list…things he wanted to do before he died. It was so cliché but he wanted it now. To hell with crawling in a silent corner and dying in peace. He was going to make sure that he went out with a bang.


	66. Chapter 66

Harry weaved through the crowd and made his way to the bar at the far end of the club. The music thrummed pleasantly through his veins as he stopped at the bar and leaned over the counter to eye all the bottles filled with colourful liquids on the wall. It was a bit mesmerizing and he was tempted to taste them all. Getting drunk was at the top of his newly formed bucket list at the moment. Harry spied four bartenders working the overcrowded bar but a blondie caught his eye and he signalled him to come take his order. The blonde hesitated before coming to stand in front of him. Harry quirked up an eyebrow and grinned at him. He looked young, a little above seventeen or eighteen maybe. He had a cherubic face and sapphire eyes that glowed in the dim light. His blond curls framed his face and the first word that crossed his mind was 'Angel'. Harry leaned closer to him and spoke loud enough so that he could hear him over the music,

"Do you know who I am?"

The blonde nodded quickly and Harry's grin widened. He crooked his finger and signalled him to come closer. The blonde leaned over the counter and Harry rested a hand on his shoulder as he brought his lips close to his ear and spoke,

"I've never tasted anything alcoholic and I want that to change tonight. But there's a slight problem… I don't know the first thing about these sort of drinks and I believe you can help me out there. So, tonight, you have one job… Get me drunk."

The blonde leaned away from him and was about to say something when a short, stubby man appeared behind him and pushed him out of the way. Harry didn't like that…he didn't like that at all. He smiled widely when he saw Harry and offered his hand. Harry assessed him for a while and surmised that he was the owner of his place,

"Mr. Potter, I was informed of your presence here and came as soon as I could."

Harry made no move to shake his hand and the man dropped it with an embarrassed flush. Harry felt a little satisfied. That bastard should be embarrassed for treating his employees like that. The voice inside his head chimed,

Hypocrite.

Harry scoffed at it. He only treated Umbridge and Bella like that because they were evil. Besides, he admitted that he was a hypocrite so this matter was null and void and he finally spoke,

"I believe you're the owner of this place."

The man nodded, a little bit of smugness returning to his face,

"Yes, Mr. Potter. And I came here to inform you that everything here is complimentary for you."

Harry smiled and rested his elbows on the counter,

"How kind of you but… I am perfectly capable of paying for everything."

The man shook his head,

"I did not mean to imply…"

Harry raised his hand and the man went silent,

"If you want to do something for me then I want that blondie to serve me and only me for the duration of my stay here."

The man turned around and scowled at the blonde before turning back to face him,

"Mr. Potter…we are a bit understaffed at the moment and this is his first day on the job."

Harry felt a little overjoyed at that fact and pulled out his pouch. He grabbed a fistful of galleons and dropped them on the counter. He didn't miss the greedy glint in the man's eyes at the sight of them,

"Will that be enough to pay for his services?"

The man vanished them with a wave of his wand and spoke with a lecherous grin,

"That will be more than enough, Mr. Potter but can I interest you in someone more experienced."

Harry smiled as sweetly as possible and dismissed him with a wave of his hand,

"No, he'll do just fine."

He turned to the blonde and signalled him close again,

"What's your name?"

The blonde stepped closer and twisted the cloth he was holding in his hands nervously,

"You don't have to be nervous around me. It's not like I'm going to eat you…besides you're probably a year or two older than me."

That did nothing to lessen the blonde's nervousness so Harry grabbed the cloth from his hand and spoke,

"Look at me, Angel."

The blonde looked up and Harry felt a little mesmerized by those sapphire eyes,

"It's your first day on the job, right?"

The blonde nodded. Harry smiled,

"Well, I don't know anything about bartending but I think confidence is the key to succeed in everything. If you aren't confident then people will end up taking advantage of you."

Harry paused and saw something like awe shining in those sapphire eyes…the kind he had seen in Rabastan eyes for him. Rabastan…Why was he still thinking about him. He had to forget him. He was here to forget him. He focused on the blonde's angelic features instead and spoke,

"You have a beautiful face and I'm sure plenty of people here are having some very obscene thoughts about you. If you're going to be doing this job on a permanent basis then you'll have to face a lot of that on a daily basis. Now, if you don't want people to act on those thoughts then you'll have to man up and be confident because if you show even a tiny sliver of vulnerability, these people will pick up on it and rip you apart. So, my one and only advice to you is to stay strong. Be courteous, since that's in your job description, but don't let anyone touch you and don't let their words affect you."

A small smile finally graced the blonde's bright lips and completed that illusion of him being an angel. Harry could feel his own smile brighten. His voice was as smooth and sweet as honey when he spoke,

"Deus Miller."

Harry shook his hand,

"I'm going to call you Angel. I hope you don't have a problem with that."

Deus shook his head and Harry laughed softly,

"Okay, so, what do you suggest for my first drink."

Harry watched as Deus turned around and eyed the wall. When he turned back to face him, he had a confident glint in his sapphire eyes,

"How about firewhisky, Mr. Potter?"

Harry groaned and shook his head. He saw Deus's confidence waver and spoke,

"Firewhisky is fine. Don't call me, Mr. Potter though. I hear it enough at the ministry and everywhere I go. Just call me Harry."

Deus placed a coaster in front of him on the counter and placed a glass over it. He went to the wall, grabbed a bottle, came back and poured the drink into the glass. Harry eyed the bright orange liquid for a moment before picking it up and taking a cautious sip. Harry felt it sear his throat and fire him with something that was like courage. Courage...he didn't need that. He downed the rest of the glass in one and enjoyed the pleasant burn at the back of his throat. He smiled at Deus who was looking at him with nervous anticipation,

"That was great. Now, I want something stronger. Impress me, Angel."

Deus turned his back to him and frowned at the wall before picking out a bottle and setting it on the counter,

"This is Dragon Scale. It starts out as an ale and winds up as a lager _"_

Harry watched with interest as Deus replaced his glass with a clean one and poured the reddish frothy liquid in. He picked it up and took a sip. It started off with an explosion of fruity flavours over Harry's taste buds but eventually it winded down and tasted clean and crisp. It was an absolute delight,

"It's wonderful."

Deus smiled as one of his fellow bartenders came to discuss something with him. Harry left them to their discussion and turned around to survey the crowd on the dance floor. He took a sip from his glass, rested his elbows on the counter and leaned back as he watched the people dance and writhe against each other. And that's when he saw him.

Harry had to pull off his glasses and rub his eyes to confirm that he wasn't hallucinating. He turned around and looked at Deus immersed in some discussion about the inventory with the other bartender,

"Angel, can you see that man?"

Deus looked past him at the spot Harry indicated with his finger. The other bartender piped up,

"Mr. Lestrange? He's a regular…or used to be a regular…"

Harry turned around and eyed Rabastan again. He looked so different. He was dressed to the nines in a black silk shirt and black jeans that were so tight they looked painted on his long legs. He hadn't slicked up his hair and let them fall around his face. Harry's gaze was glued to him and he found himself unable to look away,

"He used to be a regular?"

The other bartender spoke indulgently,

"Yes, he used to come here regularly on the weekends more than a month ago but then he stopped coming. It's good to see him back though."

Rabastan moved to the dance floor with and It didn't take him long to attract attention. Before long, he was swaying his hips to the rhythmic music, his eyes closed and head thrown back on another man's shoulder. Male hands touched his hips as their owner ground his crotch against Rabastan's hips. Harry wanted to look away. He wanted to turn his back on the entire scene. Rabastan was moving on. This was good. It was what he had wanted, hadn't he?

Harry watched the display with growing distaste. How did that man know that it was okay to dance that way with a total stranger? Harry wanted to punch him in the face for grinding against Rabastan like that. His eyes roamed over Rabastan's silk shirt with contempt before settling once again on the hands holding Rabastan's hips. He glared at the guy's hands, but instead of disappearing under the force of his gaze, they slipped under the silk shirt to grope Rabastan's pale stomach.

Realizing his body had gone rigid, Harry tried to relax but couldn't quite manage it. He watched the guy knead Rabastan's stomach, his hand clearly slipping up to stroke his nipples. Rabastan's lips parted. He was clearly enjoying himself…enjoying having his chest groped by a total stranger. Harry lifted his eyes to Rabastan's and found him already looking at him through sultry, heavy-lidded eyes. Rabastan smiled at him and bared his neck to the other guy, letting him kiss his neck while the guy's hands stroked his nipples. Harry didn't need to hear to know that Rabastan was moaning, grinding back against the other man.

He turned around immediately before he did something he would regret again. Rabastan deserved happiness. He wasn't going to ruin him again. Harry couldn't help but wonder if Rabastan would have brought him here if he had agreed to go out with him that day. He set down his glass on the counter with more force than necessary and Deus started,

"Is something wrong, Mr. Potter?"

Harry bit back a growl,

"I told you not to call me that."

He realized his mistake and looked up at Deus,

"I'm sorry."

Deus shook his head and smiled,

"If you don't like the drink then I can get you something else."

Harry emptied his glass in one gulp and was about to speak when a hand slid onto his back, followed by the weight and pressure of a taller body beside him. The man slid a glass filled with an ember coloured liquid in front of him. Harry pushed it away. Who knew what it contained? Instead he signalled Deus to pour him another Dragon Scale. He was about to politely thank the guy when the hand on his back slid possessively down to the top of his jeans, a light circling pressure.

Harry allowed himself to sink into a fantasy that it was Voldemort or Rabastan. The hand drifted over his hips, and Harry tipped them to meet the touch, skin tingling, a light buzz in his head as he gulped enough of the drink to keep the fantasy alive.

The fingers on his hips dipped between his legs, a light brush forward, and then dug into the crease as the hand gripped hard. The fantasy evaporated and Harry wriggled free,

"Thanks for the drink."

Before he could get clear, the guy's hand wrapped hard around Harry's upper arm,

"What's your hurry? You were shaking your ass at me just fine."

Harry got a good look at his face. Hard eyes, flat nose. Probably had it broken in a few fights. His ragged appearance and pointed teeth gesticulated to the fact that he might be a werewolf.

"I said thanks for the drink."

Harry tried to pull free without turning it into some kind of shoving contest. Not that he would mind it. He was itching to get his frustration out but creating a scene here wasn't going to do anyone any favours and on top of everything else he didn't want to ruin Rabastan's night. The werewolf leaned closer to him and spoke,

"Whore."

Harry's blood hummed in his veins as determination and anger took over. He sucked down the rest of his drink and leaned into the unsuspecting bastard,

"Mmm. I like dirty talk."

The man released his arm, and Harry's hand shot down, grabbing the guy's nut sac and giving it a twist so he had his attention,

"I said thanks. If you're looking for a whore, it's going to take a lot more than a drink to get over having to look at your face. Now, you're going to step away from me and get out of this club. Clear?"

The man grunted, eyes squeezed shut, lips thinned in a grimace of pain. Harry twisted harder,

"I asked you a question. Are we clear?"

The man nodded his head and Harry released him. But he quickly learned that that had been a mistake as the man swung his fist and pain blazed up as it connected with his jaw. That was the breaking point of his patience. At that moment, Harry was blinded by a five-course serving of rage that tasted bitter, yet surprisingly satisfying. The werewolf raised his fist to hit him again and Harry went to punch him in the face. When his fist came in contact with his nose the werewolf fell to the ground wailing in pain. Harry didn't even feel it. His fist should have ached, his knuckles should have hurt. He grinned. Dumbledore's curse was good for something after all.

Harry tackled him and held him down so he could not fight back. Harry seriously doubted he could've anyway as his fists continued to hit his face. He was dimly aware that the music had stopped playing and he was surrounded by people watching the fight. Suddenly pain flared up in Harry's knuckles…intense and blinding…all at once. He stopped immediately and looked incredulously at the man's bloody face, then at his gloved hands and burst into a fit of exuberant laughter...

He was dragged away from the werewolf and forced to his feet but he couldn't stop laughing. It took a moment for him to gather himself and when he managed to see through the haze of tears, he found Rabastan standing inches away from him, staring at him with a mixture of concern and incredulity.


	67. Chapter 67

Harry's heart was overjoyed to see Rabastan so close to him…that selfish thing was practically dancing in his chest. He needed to quash it…quash this…Rabastan didn't deserve this. He had to be cruel to be kind…He had to be cruel to be kind…he had to be cruel to be kind. He repeated that mantra over and over in his head as he took a step away from Rabastan and spoke,

"I'm sorry…I didn't mean to disrupt your date. You can get back to it now. The show's over."

Harry watched as the werewolf was hauled away by two bulky looking wizards who were probably the security guards. He watched Rabastan walk away from the corner of his eye and he felt an extremely hollow feeling settle in his chest and stomach. This is for the best. It's for the best. Harry held back a groan as the owner hurried towards him through the crowd,

"I am so sorry, Mr. Potter. Please accept my apology and forgive me."

Harry looked down at his gloved hands and another wave of joy coursed through him as he felt them throbbing with pain,

"I should be thanking you and him. Could you have him brought back here?"

The owner's eyes widened and he looked at him like he had gone mad. He knew he was a bit mad. He bowed his head and spoke,

"As you wish, Mr. Potter."

The owner hurried away in the direction where the guards had taken the werewolf. He turned around and looked at Deus, who appeared pale and extremely worried. Harry smiled at him and inquired,

"What's wrong, Angel?"

Deus was eyeing his gloved hands and Harry was about to reply when the owner's annoying whiny voice interrupted him. He turned around and found him standing with the werewolf on his side. He stepped closer to him and the werewolf flinched away. His face was still covered in blood. Harry assessed the damage and surmised that he had probably broken his nose again. His upper lip was split and he spied a fractured cheekbone. Harry only felt a dull ache in his jaw and a constant throbbing pain in his hands. He didn't mind it though. He was cherishing it. It was supposed to make him happy but it didn't. He didn't feel happy. Before the werewolf could back away any further, Harry leapt forwards and grabbed him in a hug. The werewolf went stock still and Harry whispered against his ear,

"Thank you."

When Harry pulled away, he realized that the werewolf looked stunned and the owner's jaw was hanging open. He addressed the owner,

"If you want to make amends then I suggest you take good care of him. Have him healed and fix him up with anything he needs."

The owner nodded shakily and Harry smiled in contentment. He was about to turn away when the werewolf spoke,

"Thank you for what?"

Harry smiled and winked at him,

"You wouldn't understand."

He turned his back to them and saw that the worry on Deus's face had been replaced with admiration. He was looking at him like he was some kind of a hero. Hero…He hated that word…hated how bitter it left his mouth. He sat down on a stool and spoke,

"I'm not a hero, Angel. Stop looking at me like that."

Deus smiled softly and conjured a clean glass in front of him. Harry looked down at the empty glass and spoke,

"I want something extremely potent. I've had three glasses and so far, I've only felt a little bit of that buzz. I want to be out of my mind, Angel."

Deus's smile wavered,

"People usually drink to forget their misery and pain. Are you…I mean why do you want to be drunk?"

Misery and pain…How accurate but not accurate at all. Pain was such a small word for what he was experiencing. He closed his eyes and the image of Rabastan walking away played on the forefront of his mind. His heart ached and bled. It was worse than the physical pain he was feeling right now. He tried to distract himself and asked,

"Have you ever thought about the things you want to do the most before dying?"

He opened his eyes and saw extreme puzzlement in those sapphire eyes. But then the puzzlement was gone, replaced by clear determination and a secret smile,

"I have."

Harry raised an eyebrow,

"And?"

Deus lowered his head and Harry saw a blush creep up his neck and heat up his cheeks,

"Well, now you've got me curious."

Harry winced as the pain in his hands spiked but he was pretty sure Deus didn't notice it. He covered his mouth and coughed while he waited for Deus's answer. Deus looked up and finally spoke,

"I want to get a tattoo…several tattoos and a piercing…well several piercings."

Harry couldn't quite believe his ears and he leaned forward,

"Really? That's what you want? I thought you were all sweet and innocent. Why would you want something like that?"

Deus laughed softly,

"Exactly because of that…I don't want people to think of me as sweet and innocent. And after the advice you gave me today, I want them all the more."

Harry was intrigued,

"We can get them together."

Deus looked startled,

"Together? You mean…You want them too?"

Harry rested his elbows on the counter and grinned,

"There's no harm in it, right? We can get them in the next couple of days."

Deus smiled for a brief moment and then it vanished,

"I haven't saved enough for those yet. I just started this job today."

Harry tsked,

"I'm going to pay for it. Don't worry about that. So, what else do you want?"

Deus was about to decline when Harry gave him a soft warning look,

"What else do you want, Angel?"

Harry say Deus's sapphire eyes warm up,

"Love…I want to fall in love…"

Harry felt his smile fall away,

"Love?"

Deus's smile faltered as well. Harry rearranged his expressions and asked as nonchalantly as possible,

"I mean why love?"

Deus leaned forward and asked,

"Aren't you in love?"

Harry scoffed and leaned back,

"No. What made you ask that? Do I look like I'm in love?"

Deus lips curved up,

"You might be. I wouldn't know. I haven't fallen in love yet."

Harry felt his smile return and he laughed,

"Are you hitting on me?"

Deus shook his head looking extremely flustered,

"No…That wasn't my intention…You have to believe I didn't mean to."

Harry straightened up,

"I'm just messing with you. Relax."

Deus visibly relaxed and Harry saw his gaze wander to his hands again,

"Where did you learn to fight?"

Harry looked down at his hands again,

"I didn't learn how to fight. It was just a spur of the moment thing."

Deus looked worried again,

"They must be hurting."

Harry smiled,

"They are but I'm enjoying it."

Deus looked puzzled,

"Enjoying the pain?"

Harry nodded. Deus wouldn't understand. No one would except Rabastan or Voldemort,

"There's a bruise on your jaw."

Harry knew there was and he had a feeling it was going to ache like hell in a while,

"I need a drink."

Deus immediately went to the wall and came back with a black bottle that had a green label pasted over it. Deus broke the seal and filled the glass,

"This is Knotgrass Mead. containing 23% alcohol. Made from 100% pure ingredients, which include knotgrass in addition to traditional fermented honey."

Harry eyed the dark amber coloured liquid in his glass but couldn't bring himself to move his hands. They were already aching and he felt unable to move his fingers. Deus seemed to have picked up on his dilemma and placed a straw in his glass,

"Can I get you some ice for your hands and your jaw?"

Harry nodded as he took the straw between his lips and took a long draw. He watched Deus vanish and saw Rabastan settle down with his date on the stools next to his. He wanted to ignore them but it was almost impossible to ignore the guy's deep baritone as he ordered drinks and talked animatedly about the mansion he had recently purchased. Harry took another sip of his wonderfully sweet drink and hoped it would erase the bitterness poisoning his veins. He kept his gaze focused on the counter as he chewed on the end of his straw and waited for Deus to return.

Three minutes later, the guy was beginning to sound irritated because Rabastan hadn't spoken a word ever since they had taken those seats. Harry resisted the urge to look at him as his heart cheered with joy in his chest. So, apparently Rabastan wasn't happy. Deus returned with a smile on his face but a wary look in his eyes. He placed the towel filled with ice on the counter and Harry spoke,

"Did the owner scold you?"

Deus shook his head but his sapphire eyes screamed yes,

"I'll have a word with him later."

Deus shook his head frantically,

"No…please…I really need this job."

Harry finished his drink in one draw and spoke,

"Come work for me at the ministry, Angel."

Deus eyes bugged out of his head and Harry eyed his empty glass,

"I'm not kidding. I do have the authority to hire anyone I want and if you're terrified of Voldemort then don't be. You seem wasted on a place like this plus the pay will be ten times better. But, of course, you have the option to decline."

Deus eyes shimmered with tears and Harry tried to understand what he'd said wrong,

"Umm…I didn't mean to hurt you, Angel."

Deus wiped away the tears and spoke in a choked voice,

"I will be eternally grateful to you."

Harry smiled in relief,

"So, you accept?"

Deus nodded with a watery smile and Harry spoke,

"Excellent. You can come by the ministry tomorrow. Now I'd very much like it if you refilled my glass and helped me with the ice."

Deus nodded and got to work. He had just taken Harry's hand in his to remove the gloves when the sound of a glass shattering made them both turn. Harry concealed the grin that threatened to show itself as he realized that Rabastan had tossed his glass to the floor and was stalking towards him,

"Hands off him."

Deus immediately released his hands and Harry leaned against the counter as Rabastan came to stand infront of him. Harry saw nothing but possessiveness burning in his eyes. Deus spoke in a low timid voice,

"Do you want me to call security?"

Harry shook his head,

"There's no need, Angel."

He rose to his feet and Rabastan's dance partner came to stand beside him, grabbed his forearm and tried to drag him away,

"Rabastan, let's go."

Rabastan yanked his arm out of his grip and growled,

"Get lost, Sebastian."

Harry's heart was jumping up and down in his chest with happiness. The voice in his head was reprimanding him but he tuned it out. The guy sulked off and Harry watched him leave,

"Sorry about your date."

Rabastan leaned closer to him and gripped his collar,

"That's the only thing you're sorry for?"

Harry blinked his eyes in mock confusion,

"Is there something else I'm supposed to be sorry for?"

Rabastan released his collar and his gaze travelled to Deus,

"Are you going to destroy him too?"

Harry turned to look at Deus,

"Do you fancy me, Angel?"

Deus shook his head looking utterly mortified. Harry rose to his feet and spoke,

"You can dance with anyone you want…allow anyone to touch you…let anyone grope you but you couldn't stand to see Deus touch me…What does that say about you, Rabi?"

Rabastan's head fell and Harry gripped his chin despite the pain that little movement caused to flare up in his knuckles. Rabastan met his gaze and his eyes were shining with tears,

"I can't help it. I tried to forget you…tried to hate you…tried to wipe away your memories with someone else's touch. It didn't work…I want you...More than I did before…"

Harry let his hands fall away. He wasn't sure if he was in his senses. He turned around and frowned at his empty glass. Was he drunk? Maybe. He was sure about one thing though. He wanted Rabastan too. He had felt everything Rabastan had felt, anger, jealousy, sadness and misery. Harry felt Rabastan's hand on his shoulder,

"Please, Harry."

Harry's head spun for a moment and he collapsed back on the stool,

"I need another drink."

Deus was about to pour him another drink from the green labelled bottle when Rabastan spoke,

"Two Italian Vermouth Biancos."

Deus nodded and went to grab whatever Rabastan had ordered. Rabastan took Harry's hand in his and removed his gloves. Harry groaned out in pain and squeezed his eyes shut. He jerked away his hand as Rabastan applied the cold towel to his knuckles,

"Owww!"

Rabastan took his hand and continued to torment him with the ice. Harry tried to get away his hands again but Rabastan's hold was firm and he spoke softly,

"For the first time, I'm actually glad you were reckless."

Harry laughed and opened his eyes. The smile on Rabastan's face was warm and the happiness in Rabastan's eyes was so obvious and so beautiful. He'd though he'd never see that again but here he was…so undeserving of Rabastan's love and attention but still a recipient of it. He looked down at his hands and saw the dark reddish-purple bruises on his knuckles. He flexed his fingers and another cry escaped his lips along with an exclamation of joy. He could move his fingers again. Every second of the pain was worth it. Rabastan raised his hands to his lips and kissed them. The alcohol had failed to intoxicate him but the giddiness he felt from just the touch of Rabastan lips against his skin muzzled his higher thinking in much the same way and he felt absolutely intoxicated.

Rabastan pulled his lips away and released his hands. He started applying the ice to his jaw and Harry winced. Deus placed their drinks in front of them and Harry downed his in one gulp. Rabastan tsked,

"You were supposed to enjoy it."

Harry winced again as Rabastan pressed the ice to his jaw. He looked at Deus and signalled him to refill the glass. The ice had almost melted when Rabastan placed the towel on the counter and picked up his glass. Harry held up his and this time sipped it slowly. He wasn't prepared for the fireworks that went off on his tongue or the sparks that rushed through his nerves and burst into a kaleidoscope of colours in his mind. Maybe it was Rabastan's company…his warmth…his affection. The colours began to dim and Harry closed his eyes and took another sip to revive their vivaciousness. He repeated it over and over again until his glass was empty. He opened his eyes and saw a beautiful smile on Rabastan's lips,

"I think you've had enough for one night."

Harry shook his head and his vision blurred. Everything swam in and out of focus,

"One more."

Rabastan put down his glass and rose to his feet,

"Time to take you home."

Harry rose to his feet and struggled to keep his balance. It was like some sort of outer body experience. His legs weren't working as he told them to. Neither did his hands. Or his fingers. Somewhere, deep inside he knew his brain was sending signals telling them what to do. Whether or not his body was listening was a different story. Instantly, the world tipped over and Rabastan grabbed him,

"Harry…"

Harry looked up at Rabastan and whispered,

"I don't have a home."

A pained expression crossed Rabastan's face. He felt Rabastan slip an arm underneath his shoulders to balance him. He was about to lead him away from the bar when Harry shouted,

"Stop. I…I haven't paid."

Rabastan kissed his temple and Harry felt like swooning,

"It's covered. Just relax."

They had taken a few steps forward when Harry struggled to turn,

"I haven't thanked Deus."

Rabastan laughed softly and after a minute Deus came to stand in front of him,

"Thanks for everything. Just…just come by tomorrow."

Deus nodded and smiled softly,

"It was my pleasure."

Rabastan spoke softly,

"Can we leave now, Harry?"

Harry nodded and let his head fall on Rabastan's shoulder. It felt right…everything inside him felt right as he soaked in that wonderful warmth. This was meant to be and he wasn't going to fight it again.


	68. Chapter 68

Harry barely weighed anything and he found it alarming. It definitely wasn't healthy. He gripped his forearm and Harry's head jerked away from his shoulder and he spoke in a low, slurred voice,

"Where are you taking me?"

Harry gazed up at him and he couldn't control what he felt. He was beautiful…more than beautiful…he was absolutely gorgeous. Harry's gaze was heavy lidded, his lips shining with moisture…so damn kissable…He brushed a raven lock away from his face as he imagined all the things he wanted to do to him.

He mentally slapped himself. No, Harry didn't think of him that way. He didn't want him that way. Taking him to Malfoy Manor as The Dark Lord had commanded was his safest bet otherwise he was afraid that he'd act on his desires and lose Harry forever,

"Malfoy Manor."

As soon as he'd said it, Harry shoved away from him and staggered as he fought to maintain his balance. He was about to leap forward and grab him when Harry took another stumbling step backwards,

"No…"

He could tell by the way Harry was swaying that he was going to fall down soon, so he shot forward and gripped his arm. Harry fought ferociously against his hold and shouted,

"NO!"

He couldn't understand why Harry was so against the prospect of going back to the Manor. People were starting to stop and stare as Harry continued to struggle and shout. He imagined what it looked like and grew red with mortification,

"Harry…relax…I won't take you there…"

A sloppy grin curved Harry's lips as he grew still and he realized he'd done it on purpose…all that struggling and shouting, just so that he could make him yield. He knew he should feel angry at being manipulated like that but he couldn't…He just couldn't feel anything but utter adoration. Harry's head dropped back on his shoulder and he didn't miss the happy sigh that escaped his lips. Hope fluttered to life in his chest. Harry was content with him. Maybe…Just maybe…

He banished the thought before it could take root. Harry would never pick anyone over the Dark Lord. His apartment was just a few streets away and it didn't take him long to get Harry there. He sat him down on the couch and Harry settled into it like he belonged there. He had his eyes closed but his happiness and contentment were apparent. The way his features were relaxed, the lazy smile that was stuck on his lips, his relaxed posture. He knelt down in front of him and began unlacing his boots and pulled them off along with his socks. He could have just vanished them but he needed an excuse to touch him. Once the boots were off. He took out his wand and was about to heal Harry's knuckles when Harry jerked his hands away,

"Don't heal me."

He put away his wand and leaned over him and began unbuttoning his waist coat.

Harry's eyes flickered open and his lips parted,

"Kiss me."

He took a step back and turned away. He couldn't understand how words as simple as that that could fill him with so much joy…so much desire. No…No…No…Harry was drunk. He probably thought that he was The Dark Lord. He wouldn't do it…couldn't do it...Harry's voice shattered all his misconceptions and proved that he wasn't thinking about the Dark Lord,

"Kiss me, Rabi."

Even so, he just couldn't…Harry's judgement was impaired at this moment. What if Harry remembered this and regretted it when he woke up tomorrow? He couldn't lose Harry to his own desires. He just wouldn't. Strengthening his resolve, he turned back around and felt it crumble all over again. Harry's emerald gaze was focused on him and he saw nothing but desire there. He mumbled the order,

"C'mere."

And Rabastan felt his body obey despite his heart and mind screaming at him to run. When he was leaning over him, Harry lifted his hand and rested it on the back of his head,

"Rabi…"

Harry pulled his head down. Rabastan had never felt so weak in the face of attraction. His control was pitiful. He was drawn to Harry like a bee to honey.

 _Just a kiss_ , he told himself dazedly, staring at Harry's lips.  _Just one_.

He pressed his lips against Harry's, swallowing the moan threatening to leave his lips. He licked into Harry's mouth, cradling his face in his hands. Harry was wonderfully responsive, his lips and tongue just as hungry, his arms locking around his neck, pulling him closer. Small moans filled the air as they kissed…his or Harry's, Rabastan had no idea. Harry tasted wonderful, the rich flavour of the bianco combined with the taste of Harry's mouth made a potent, intoxicating mix and before he could process what was happening, he was consumed by the desire burning in his chest. He was sucking on Harry's tongue greedily, trying to get as much of that taste as he possibly could and making desperate little sounds. He heard himself whine as Harry pulled away to breathe. He looked up at him expecting regret but Harry just looked dazed and flushed. Rabastan sat down beside him and Harry sighed and rested his head on his shoulder,

"I'm tired…I'm so tired. I want him and I want you."

Rabastan wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulder and watched as his eyelids slid shut.

"Hope I remember this in the morning. I don't want to forget."

Frowning, Rabastan stroked his hair with his fingers and Harry whispered,

"I wish…I wish things were different."

He couldn't help but ask,

"Different?"

Harry didn't respond and he was starting to think that he had fallen asleep when Harry mumbled quietly,

"Do you ever wonder if there are alternate universes? Lives where things are a little different? Maybe in another life…"

His voice got strained and he trailed off. Before long, he was asleep.

Rabastan lifted him carefully and carried him to the bedroom. Harry didn't wake up even when he tucked him into bed. He sat next to him, leaning back against the headboard. His forehead creased, he watched Harry sleep as the nagging feeling in his gut became stronger and stronger. He rose to his feet and traced his fingers over his own lips thoughtfully. Harry hadn't regretted the kiss. He had said he wanted him and he hoped it stayed that way in the morning. He pulled back his sleeve and allowed his finger to hover over the dark mark there. For a moment, he considered not informing him but then he pressed his finger over the Dark Mark. A swish informed him of Voldemort's arrival and he turned around to find him bent over Harry's insentient form.

He watched as Voldemort caressed the bruise on Harry's jaw and then the bruises on his knuckles. His heart jumped to his throat when Voldemort traced his finger over Harry's moist swollen lips and he was certain that he knew…he knew that he had kissed Harry. When Voldemort finally turned to him. His eyes were burning with murderous intent. Voldemort flicked his wand. He figured that Voldemort had cast a privacy charm. In the blink of an eye, he found himself pinned to the wall with his air passage being constricted.

"You kissed him?"

There was no point in lying and he wasn't afraid of death. He nodded his head and screamed out as his mental shield were ripped apart and Voldemort went through his memories of the night. It was over as soon as he had started and he found himself staring into crimson eyes that were filled with a mixture of rage and confusion. The pressure on his throat eased and he drew in a long breath,

"What does he see in you?"

Rabastan felt Voldemort grip his face and turn it at different angles to assess it. He closed his eyes and remained still and silent through the assessment. He didn't know himself what Harry saw in him. Voldemort released his face and spat out the order,

"Open your eyes."

Rabastan obeyed quickly and his breath hitched in his throat as Voldemort's hands trailed down his body. A moan escaped his lips as Voldemort pinched his nipples through the shirt. His hands balled into fists as he fought his arousal. Those crimson eyes were alight with amusement,

"Kneel."

He dropped down to the floor immediately. Voldemort vanished his robes and it wasn't difficult to spot the bulge in his pants. He couldn't believe it. Was this some kind of a dream? Was Voldemort really aroused for him…because of him? Or was this because of Harry? Voldemort conjured a chair and after seating himself, cocked up an eyebrow. He knew what was expected of him but…this…it was just too surreal. He was dazed…absolutely disconcerted. He licked his lips nervously and his gaze travelled over to Harry's sleeping form and Voldemort turned his face back towards himself. His eyes fluttered shut as Voldemort trailed a finger down his throat,

"I am beginning to see the appeal, Rabastan."

He was burning up…every part of him was on fire and his body moved of its own accord. Slowly, he opened his eyes and reached for Voldemort's fly. His hands didn't shake as he pulled the zipper down.

The feeling of velvety, warm skin against his hand was something of a shock. Voldemort wasn't wearing anything under his pants. He pulled the warm, pulsing organ out. He didn't know what he had expected. But the hot, hard length twitching in his hand felt and looked nothing like his own. cock. It was so much bigger. So much harder. Hot and oddly pleasant to touch.

He stared at it in fascination. Part of him couldn't believe he had The Dark Lord's  _cock_ in his hand. It just seemed so…improper. Obscene. He leaned in and gave the tip of the cock a kittenish lick. Voldemort's breath hitched, and he felt a rush of pleasure.

He licked the cock from the base to the tip, watching greedily for any sign of Voldemort losing his composure. He felt something like satisfaction when Voldemort's body stiffened like a string ready to snap, his pupils were blown, bright against the dark lashes, intent, hungry, heavy-lidded with base need. His face warming, Rabastan circled his tongue around the slippery cock head before slowly taking it into his mouth.

His eyes closed as the pleasure and his feelings grew out of control. Damn it. He hadn't anticipated this. Until a few moments ago, he had only wanted Harry and now…now every particle of his being lusted for Voldemort as well.

He relaxed and took as much of Voldemort's cock into his mouth as he could. Another wave of strange pleasure hit his senses and he shivered. He moaned as a stronger wave of pleasure assaulted his senses, making him dizzy with it, and he needed…he needed…

He started sucking the cock harder. He  _needed_  to do it, to satisfy that foreign, unfamiliar want burning in his chest. He sucked the hot length in his mouth harder, needing it, needing…

Hard fingers suddenly buried in his hair and forced him to stop. He whined in protest. No! He wanted…he wanted…

"Open your eyes. Look at me."

He did. Voldemort's eyes were hooded, revealing nothing of his emotions, though his expression was set into tight lines.

"You look stunning with a cock in your mouth. I wonder why I never saw it before."

Voldemort stroked his cheek—his own cock through his cheek. Rabastan felt nearly dizzy with need. He moaned, consumed by the overwhelming need to suck again. Voldemort smiled and looking him in the eye, he cradled his face and started thrusting, using his mouth for his pleasure. Using him.

He opened his mouth wider, greedy, and so, so hungry. His eyes closed again as he lost himself in the slick, obscene sounds of Voldemort's cock thrusting in and out of his mouth. His jaw was aching already and his lips felt sore, but he didn't care; he felt too good to care about anything but Voldemort's cock and the way it filled up his mouth. The need assaulting his senses became worse, and he whined and grabbed Voldemort's thighs, trying to get him deeper into him and then his world shattered, waves upon waves of pleasure hitting his senses as Voldemort's cock erupted in his mouth.

Blinking dazedly as he swallowed the come as best he could. He felt…he felt so intoxicated. Voldemort's softening cock slipped out of his mouth. Licking his lips, he looked up.

Zipping up his pants, Voldemort gave him a crooked grin. If he didn't know better, he'd never guess what Voldemort had been doing just a few moments ago. He rose to his feet and spoke,

"Passable."

Voldemort made his way back to the bed and he rose to his feet on shaking legs. He watched as he leaned down and pressed a kiss to Harry's forehead,

"If he wants you then he shall have you."


	69. Chapter 69

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Sorry about the brevity of this chapter. Wrote it on my flight to London. But I hope you enjoy it. Looking forward to your feedback. Love you all."

Harry's eyelids flickered open and his unfocused gaze settled on Voldemort. A happy grin lit up his features and excitement illuminated his emerald eyes in the blink of an eye,

"Lover"

Harry jumped off the bed, threw his arms out and wrapped them around Voldemort's neck.

"You're here!"

Rabastan couldn't help but smile as Voldemort barely caught Harry with his free arm to hold him steady…and upright. A warm smile curved Voldemort's lips. The kind he had only ever seen on his face for Harry

"So, it would seem."

Harry spoke as he tapped a finger on Voldemort's chest in time to his words.

"Yes. It. Would."

Then he turned his head, and his glassy eyes locked on to Rabastan.

"And Rabi! You're here too…"

He nodded and said,

"I am."

Harry closed his eyes and sighed,

" _Oh_ , isn't this just dreamy? You two together are enough to melt my pants off."

Rabastan watched as Voldemort's lips quirked at that statement. Harry giggled and held on to Voldemort's neck with one hand, as he leaned over to wave one, then two, and finally three fingers in Rabastan's face and singsonged,

"One...Two...Three _...Three..._ That's my new favorite number."

Rabastan looked to Voldemort, who was radiating happiness and utter fondness,

"It'll be so amazing. We'll  _aaall_  love each other the same and we'll all be happy. Isn't that right?"

Rabastan felt himself burning up with mortification and noticed that Voldemort was frowning. So, he spoke,

"I think he's had far too much to drink."

Harry opened his eyes and spoke with a pout,

"Did not. I wanted one more and you didn't let me have it."

Harry was practically hanging off Voldemort's neck and giggled,

"Did you tell him about the fight, Rabi? Did you?"

He shook his head and Harry spoke in a conspiratorial whisper,

"A guy tried to hit on me today… I bet he didn't expect that I would hit him instead."

Harry burst into another fit of giggles as Rabastan gauged the possessiveness in Voldemort's expressions,

" _Aww._  He hates thinking about others touching me. It's so sweet how he gets jealous. Isn't it sweet, Rabi?"

Harry patted Voldemort on the chest and went right on talking about him as though he wasn't there,

"I hate him sometimes for it. He's the world's most dominant bastard…a complete control freak…He replaced all the clothes in my wardrobe with robes just to impose his will on me…And one time in the shower…"

Voldemort spoke sharply,

"Harry."

Harry flashed him a sloppy but endearing grin,

" _Yes_. Lover."

Voldemort tapped a finger to Harry's lips.

"Can you blame me for being jealous? I would be a fool not to be."

Harry giggled and nipped at that finger.

"And you're not a fool."

Voldemort kissed Harry's head and Harry spoke,

"Rabi, did you tell him about the kiss?"

Rabastan wanted to sink into the ground as Voldemort's gaze settled on him,

"No, I believe Rabastan has not."

Harry frowned but then his expression brightened up as he looked at Rabastan and drawled,

"He has incredible lips. You should try them out, Lover."

Rabastan felt like he was about to spontaneously combust as the way Voldemort had used his lips just a few minutes ago swam infront of his vison,

"Oh really, Harry? I shall certainly try them out."

Harry's eyes practically lit up and he whispered softly,

"He's a great dancer too. You should have seen him with that guy today. He was trying to make me jealous and it was working. I wanted to rip that guy apart."

Rabastan watched as Voldemort's entire body stiffened at that little tidbit of information, and it was clear he wasn't the only one who noticed,

"No need to worry, Lover. I didn't kill him. Rabi told him to leave."

Harry ran his hand up and down Voldemort's chest,

" _Oooh,_ you feel good."

Rabastan felt relieved when Harry became sidetracked and moved up onto his tiptoes to practically purr against Voldemort's cheek,

"Mhmm, I wanna taste you. You're sooo delicious."

Rabastan had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing, because Harry drunk was seriously entertaining, not to mention adorable. Voldemort moved his hand over Harry's back and whispered softly,

"I am all yours."

Harry turned around, glanced at him and batted his lashes.

"What about you, Rabi? Are you mine?"

Rabastan looked at Voldemort and Voldemort nodded his approval,

"Yes."

Harry shrieked with absolute joy. He began rubbing his face up against the side of Voldemort's, humming contentedly,

"This must be the room of requirement because I have everything I need."

Voldemort laughed and Rabastan couldn't hold back his own laughter. Harry looked absolutely pleased with himself,

"Wait, I know more. Let me think…"

Harry coughed and Voldemort caressed his cheek gently and laid him back down on the bed,

"Relax, Harry."

Harry didn't seem deterred. His gaze grew heavy-lidded as he leaned back against the pillows and murmured, looking at Rabastan,

"I must be under the Imperius curse, because I'd love to do anything for you."

Harry coughed again and Voldemort bent low over him and spoke softly,

"I believe I told you to relax."

Harry pulled Voldemort down over his lips and kissed him hard and rough. Rabastan felt his own arousal returning as he watched. The air practically vibrated with the passion that Harry and Voldemort exuded together. When they finally parted, Harry licked his lips and his emerald gaze lingered over Voldemort's lips,

"I can be your house elf. I'll do whatever you need, and I don't need any clothes, Master."

Voldemort's arousal was unmistakable and it seemed Harry had noticed it too. He watched as his gaze travelled down Voldemort's chest to his crotch clad in the black pants. Harry smirked and licked his lips again obscenely,

"I'd even let your basilisk into my chamber of secrets."

Rabastan grew aware of his own erection when Harry's gaze turned to him and he grinned cheekily,

"Is that your wand or are you just happy to see me?"

Rabastan stepped closer and tapped a finger to Harry's nose,

"You are so drunk, Harry."

Harry laughed and waggled his eyebrows,

"I am…that's true."

He paused, and his forehead scrunched up as though he were trying to work out what he'd been saying,

"But I'm still coherent enough to…"

Harry coughed again and Voldemort spoke as he pressed a kiss to his temple,

"Use words like coherent?"

Harry huffed haughtily,

"Yes, if you must know. But what I was going to say is I have to tell you something…both of you… while I'm still  _coherent_  enough to have a conversation."

Harry shifted to the center of the bed and patted the empty space on either side of him,

"Get in."

Another bout of coughing shook Harry up and Rabastan watched as Voldemort vanished his shoes and socks, got into bed beside him and wrapped an arm around his waist to rub his back. Harry rested his head on Voldemort's chest and looked up at him,

"Rabi…Please…"

He vanished his own boots and socks and got in the other side. Harry beckoned him closer with his hand until his back was pressed to Harry's. Harry took his hand and placed it over his chest and finally sighed in contentment. Harry's eyes moved lazily between the two of them, the alcohol was finally taking its toll on him, relaxing him until his eyes fluttered shut and he muttered,

"I don't wanna…"

But he couldn't finish his sentence as he passed out.


	70. Chapter 70

He stared at the crumpled sheets of the bed the following morning, and let his eyes travel over the two figures who lay tangled up in one another. It was just turning seven and the morning was greeting them with the sun slipping between the curtains and spilling over the figures beneath those sheets.

Harry was lying on his side facing him with one hand under the pillow, and the other resting over the top of Rabastan's, which he'd pulled up to cover his heart. The sheet had slipped down to their waists, and Rabastan was curled up close and tight behind Harry, almost as though he was afraid he'd slip away…and he knew exactly how he felt.

He, on the other hand, had been sitting in the chair he'd conjured, so he could watch over the two of them, wondering about everything Harry had said last night...everything that had happened. He could still feel the way Harry's body had trembled and shook in his arms as he had gone through a coughing fit after passing out last night. His fingers moved over the material of his shirt that had grown stiff as the blood had dried on it…Harry's blood…

He felt frustrated with himself…For the past two weeks, ever night, he'd been trying every healing charm…every spell he could get his hands on but nothing…nothing had seemed to work…He had noticed Harry's cough, the first day he had been brought to him, at that time he had found it peculiar but he hadn't paid it much mind. But, ever since Harry had returned after being tortured by Dumbledore, it seemed to have grown worse. He couldn't help but think that Dumbledore had something to do with this. He absolutely hated the fact that none of his efforts were bearing fruit…that none of his efforts were enough to heal Harry.

He closed his eyes. " _I don't wanna_ ". Those three bloody words had been playing on repeat ever since he'd heard them. What had Harry been about to say? A thousand words could fit at the end of that sentence…a thousand meanings could be derived from it… Why was Harry so difficult to understand? Why was he so shrouded in mysteries? What would it take to make him trust him? What would make him worthy of Harry's trust?

His gaze settled on Rabastan who had his eyes open now… He had been equally distressed last night when Harry had coughed out blood in his unconsciousness. Rabastan's gaze was fixated on Harry and his tears shone like crystals in the morning light. He was certain that he was wondering exactly what he was wondering.

There was something about Rabastan…something he had overlooked…a gentle attractiveness…a quiet beauty… He should have picked up on it…noticed it in all the years that Rabastan had served him but he hadn't…Instead it had been Harry that had discovered the gem that Rabastan was. He had absolutely scorned him but last night had changed his perspective monumentally. He had claimed that he would lay down the world at Harry's feet and he was perfectly willing to. Denying him Rabastan would have negated his own claim. But this wasn't just about Harry wanting Rabastan anymore. Something inside him wanted Rabastan too...wanted his caring soul…wanted that unconditional love he seemed to have for Harry.

He rose to his feet and Rabastan's gaze moved to him and he looked ready enough to get up as well. He couldn't help but smile. It would be difficult to reassure Rabastan that he was not his servant whilst he shared a bed with them…he would be an equal. He signalled him to relax and sat down beside Harry. Harry's soft features were perfectly relaxed, the sun illuminated his face and gave his beauty an almost ethereal quality. Harry was something out of this world. Slowly, carefully, he stroked his raven black locks. Harry looked so peaceful, so innocent…a direct contradiction…a paradox of what he was when he was awake. Oh, what he wouldn't do to have this sight every morning.

He traced his lips lightly with the tip of his finger. They pouted slightly, and he had such an urge to bite them, to kiss them, to wrap him up in an embrace and listen to his gentle breathing, pull him down under the covers and watch the cotton ripple like skipping stones and share crooked smiles. Harry's lips felt slightly chapped under his feather light touches but he simply could not bring himself to give a damn. He gazed so intently at each divot of that lip, as if it could map out ancient seas and heavenly planes and tell him everything he didn't know…everything he wanted to know…Rabastan spoke in a hushed whisper. So low that he thought that something inside him had spoken out loud,

"You love him."

That morning light lit up something inside the deep dark recesses of his soul and Rabastan's words made it burn brighter.

_I'm in love with him._

It made sense. It made perfect sense. Harry never left his mind, he was always there; mentally if not physically. He was pure and utterly beautiful chaos and he so desperately needed him in his life. Harry was the quintessence of love and hate, happiness and bitter rage, caring and heartless, kind and cruel. He loved him so much for that.

_I'm in love with him and I can't believe I've only just realized it._

The feeling was so foreign…so strong…so absolutely magical; it stretched throughout his entire body. It was overwhelming, yet made him feel complete. It had no bound nor length nor depth; it was just absolute. It felt as though he was in a dangerous fire, yet completely safe at the same time… as though someone had given him peace… as though his heart was dancing around in his chest; and a void, he had never been aware was there, had been filled. He felt so light like he was on top of the world and owned everything and everyone yet his heart was constricting and it felt as if there was no oxygen in his lungs.

It was strange…frightening even… how he had gone from hating Harry to being completely and absolutely infatuated by them. It made him wonder how it ever was that he was able to live without him, because he sure as hell couldn't imagine being without him now. He knew it was foolish and naïve, but it was true that he had come to love Harry more than he had ever been able to love himself or anyone else.


	71. Chapter 71

A set of warm lips on his temple woke him the following morning, and as his eyes opened, a shard of sunlight found him where his head rested on a pillow, a steady thumping began in his head,

"Good morning _,_ sleepyhead."

Rabastan's low voice sounded like it was playing through a megaphone as Harry struggled to open his eyes. His brain felt like it had swelled beyond the capacity of his skull and his dehydration was too obvious to ignore. He raised his heavy eyelids half way only for them to fall shut. He raised them again and squinted up at Rabastan's blurry face. His vision spun and he closed his eyes again,

"Take it easy, Harry. This is your first hangover, it's bound to be a bit rough."

The aching in his skull ebbed and flowed like a cold tide, yet the pain was always there. He understood at once why they called it a hangover, for it felt as if the blackest of clouds were hanging over his head with no intention of clearing.

Harry forced his eyes open again. His blurry eyesight struggled to cope with the daylight but it felt better once Rabastan perched his glasses over his nose. Harry sat up, and as he did, the room spun a little and he shut his eyes. Rabastan sat down on the side of the mattress and reached out a steadying hand to Harry's arm,

"Easy. Go slow."

Harry became aware of the dehydrated saliva that coated his cracked lips as he attempted to speak. Once on his feet, the room swayed almost causing him to lose balance and he reached out for the wall but Rabastan grabbed him and held him up. The room swirled before becoming stationary. He smacked his lips as he tried to talk again and his stomach turned in an unfriendly way. Rabastan rubbed his back and Harry tried to steady himself. His stomach lurched and gurgled again and contracted so violently that he barely reached the sink in time and threw up. Rabastan was rubbing his back and Harry leaned over the sink drawing in deep breaths. He coughed once, twice, thrice until it turned into a full-on fit and he sank to his knees, bringing Rabastan down with him. His chest and stomach ached like hell and forced him to curl into a fetal position against Rabastan. His throat felt sore from the stomach acid that was layering it and his mouth tasted foul.

When the fit had passed and Harry was leaning heavily against Rabastan's chest, he felt thirsty…so extremely thirsty. A glass of water appeared in front of him and he recognized the long, pale fingers holding it. He grabbed the glass and drank it down. The water felt heavenly running down his throat and he was glad the glass provided him a never-ending supply. He would have drank from it for an eternity but the glass was pulled away from his lips and Harry protested loudly,

"You need to eat something, Harry."

Harry snatched back the glass from Voldemort's hand and drank some more. His stomach turned at the thought of food and a wave of nausea consumed his senses. He almost didn't recognize his voice when he spoke,

"I guess I didn't dream it all up then."

He pushed himself to his feet and managed to stay on them as he faced Voldemort,

"Did Rabastan call you here last night or were you following me?"

Voldemort's lips curled up into a smirk and he spoke,

"I imagined you would be concerned about all the things you said last night rather than worrying about how I came to be here."

Harry laughed and turned to the sink. He rinsed his mouth, pulled off his glasses and splashed water over his face. When he looked up, he saw Voldemort and Rabastan's reflections staring at him in the mirror. He looked away from them and focused on himself. He looked pale… a little too pale…Ignoring that fact, he ran his fingers through his hair and turned his head to examine the bruise on his jaw. It looked good on him. He spoke,

"I was drunk which means that I practically had the license to spout forth nonsense."

He didn't actually remember what he had said last night but he knew for sure that he hadn't revealed anything incriminating. He wondered how Voldemort and Rabastan were getting along. He had a nagging suspicion in his head that he had said something about wanting both of them. Now that he thought about it, if he had said that he wanted both of them then Voldemort should have killed Rabastan by now…Not that he wanted him dead…Even the thought of it made him tremble…He couldn't lose Rabastan…But Voldemort had a reputation for being a possessive bastard and it seemed uncharacteristic of him that he had decided to share him. What was Voldemort up to? Was this another game? He decided to test his theory and turned around to find Voldemort and Rabastan standing in front of him together…Damn, the sight of them standing there like that filled him up with an intense desire to kiss them both senseless. He buried it deep underneath and shook it off,

"Are you waiting for me to talk about last night because I have to tell you that you're waiting in vain. There is absolutely nothing to talk about. I don't even remember what I said. The last solid thing I remember is kissing Rabastan…after that it's all a blur."

There was definitely a glint of mischief in the way Voldemort was smiling and in contrast to him Rabastan's smile was absolutely warm and full of innocence. The devil and the angel side by side. He wondered what he was supposed to be at that moment. They stepped closer and Harry resisted the urge to step back as the desire burning through him flared brighter, setting him on fire and driving him absolutely insane. Breathe…he willed himself to breathe…

They stepped closer until Harry was pivoted between the two of them, and Rabastan moved in behind him and planted his hands on his hips, holding him steady. Harry felt a blush creep up his cheeks and he couldn't stop the rush of heady pleasure that swept up his spine.

"Are you two going to team up against me now? This is insane."

Voldemort touched his thumb to Harry's lip and whispered softly,

"You look good when you are flustered."

Harry narrowed his eyes a fraction, and Voldemort smirked,

"You disagree?"

Harry grinned cockily and stepped away from them both,

"Yes… I look good with any expression on my face."

Voldemort chuckled and took a step forward. Harry waggled his finger and spoke,

"No. Get out. I'm taking a bath."

This distinctly reminded him of the first and only time he'd been naked around Voldemort. Voldemort's smirk stayed in place and he had the audacity to raise a questioning eyebrow,

"Which part of get out did you not understand, Lover? Should I spell it out for you?"

Harry watched as Rabastan stepped out of the bathroom but Voldemort looked like he wasn't going to budge. Harry cursed verbally, grabbed his arm and pushed him out of the bathroom before slamming the door closed and running the bath. Harry crossed his arms over his chest and paced the bathroom restlessly. Had he been too harsh? No…he had to stop this before this went too far. Hadn't he decided to try everything before he died. Did he really want to die a virgin? No…definitely not. But he wasn't going to present himself on a platter to Voldemort. When the bathtub was nearly full. Harry turned off the water and poured every scent he could get his hands on in it before stepping in fully clothed. He wouldn't put it past Voldemort to walk in to the bathroom again and he was not going to give him the pleasure of seeing him naked once more.

He rested his head against the edge and observed his hands. They were working. He could feel them again…he could feel with them again. Harry leaned back and let the happiness soak right into his bones. He closed his eyes and savoured the moment. Happiness had always eluded him in one way or another. It terrified him though. His happiness never lasted and what if this didn't last as well. Would Voldemort tire of him? He would. Harry was sure of it. The only reason Voldemort hadn't killed him yet was because he hadn't managed to get him in his bed. Once that was done, it was going to be all over. Somehow, he wasn't terrified of Voldemort killing him…he was afraid of being turned into a possession and being treated as such. And what about Rabastan? Sooner or later, he was bound to hurt Rabastan's feelings again. This was better…He wanted them both but suppressing his desire was the only feasible thing for him to do.

His head pounded with pain and he let it slip down the edge and under the water. Holding his breath for as long as he could, he tried to clear his mind and it worked. The oxygen deprivation made his mind blissfully blank and Harry relished it for a moment before coming back up for air. He inhaled air into his lungs greedily and stepped out of the tub, his clothes dripped all over the tiled floor and clung to his body like a second skin. Getting rid of the soaked waistcoat, he grabbed a towel and attempted to dry himself off but his clothes were a little too wet. He needed fresh clothes desperately. He hoped Voldemort was gone so that he could ask Rabastan for some,

Harry stepped out of the bathroom and found Voldemort seated on an armchair with a copy of the Daily Prophet open in front of him,

"What the hell are you still doing here? Don't you have to be at the ministry?"

Voldemort closed the newspaper and Harry saw a picture of himself straddling the werewolf and beating the living daylight out of him on the front paper. It looked a lot worse than it had seemed or felt. He grabbed the newspaper and read through the article. It surprised him that he hadn't been painted as the villain. The werewolf…Cillian had clarified that he had attempted to accost him and admitted that his behaviour had been contemptuous and inappropriate. Harry felt a little surprised when he saw Deus's name in the article stating that he and several other people present at the occasion had verified that statement. So, the bottom line was that he was practically a hero…standing up for himself and all that garbage. He tossed it back in Voldemort's lap and called out to Rabastan,

"Rabi, I need some dry clothes."

Voldemort rose to his feet and Harry resisted the urge to take a step back,

"Rabastan is preparing breakfast for you. He placed some dry clothes for you on the bed. I suggest you improve your observation skills."

Harry noticed the jeans and the t-shirt laid out on the bed, grabbed them and stormed back into the bathroom. It didn't take him long to get changed. He absolutely hated how Voldemort managed to get on his nerves and attract him at the same time. Once he was dressed in the faded denim jeans and the dark purple t-shirt and he had retrieved his pouch from his discarded pants, he stepped back out and walked right past Voldemort towards the kitchen where he found Rabastan extremely focused on whatever he was cooking. It smelled delicious. Too bad he wasn't going to be staying. He came up behind him as silently as possible and wrapped his arms around his waist. After pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck, he spoke,

"Thanks for the clothes, Rabi…and for everything you did for me last night."

Rabastan exuded warmth and affection and Harry pressed another kiss to his neck,

"I can't stay for breakfast. I told Deus that he could come visit me today at the ministry and I promised him a job. He must be waiting for me."

Harry pulled away his arms and Rabastan turned around and spoke,

"It's Saturday, Harry."

Harry eyes widened in shock and he smacked himself on the forehead,

"Damn it. Deus must be thinking that I was messing with him."

Rabastan pulled away his hand from his forehead, kissed his knuckles and then his forehead and spoke softly,

"Why don't you invite him to the ball tonight?"

Harry frowned,

"I don't know where he lives."

Rabastan smoothed the creases on his forehead with his thumb,

"The club owner will know. I'll find out and invite him."

Harry smiled and hugged him tightly,

"You're amazing, Rabi. Somehow you always know how to solve my problems."

Rabastan turned back to the stove and spoke,

"Go and sit down. Breakfast is just about ready."

Harry nodded despite the fact that he didn't really feel hungry and settled down on the couch. He turned on the TV and tuned into a channel that was broadcasting some show he had seen a bit of the last time he'd been here. He had no real interest in it though. Something about Voldemort's presence here was making him feel restless and keeping him from relaxing. He wanted to get up and leave but Rabastan was working so hard on the breakfast and he didn't want to disappoint him.

A few minutes later, Harry had managed to forget Voldemort's presence for a moment and had allowed himself to be engrossed by the show playing on the screen. Rabastan placed a tray laden with a plate full of pancakes infront of him,

"Seriously, Rabi. You made pancakes for me?"

He pulled him down beside him and hugged him tight,

"What did I ever do to deserve you? It must have been something extremely noble."

Rabastan smiled and handed him the knife and fork. Harry felt another wave of joy course through him as he felt the metal between his fingers. He leaned closer to Rabastan and whispered in his ear,

"What is he doing in there?"

Rabastan shrugged and rose to his feet. Harry watched as he returned to the kitchen and eyed his plate of pancakes. Somehow he was sure he wouldn't be able to eat so he rose to his feet and strode back to the bedroom where he found Voldemort with his nose buried in the newspaper again. Harry pulled the newspaper away from him and tossed it on the bed. Voldemort raised an eyebrow and Harry placed the plate in his lap and started pacing the room furiously,

"What are you doing here? What do you want from me? What are you expecting?"

Voldemort opened his mouth to speak when Harry raised a finger in warning,

"Don't you dare bloody say that you were reading the newspaper. You could have read it at Malfoy Manor or at that lake. Is this another game?"

In the blink of an eye, Harry found himself on the bed and felt the solid length of Voldemort's body pressed against his. Harry thrashed and attempted to shove him away but Voldemort didn't budge,

"This is not another game, Harry. I want you. It is as simple as that. I believe I have made that clear on several occasions."

Harry stilled himself and bit out,

"You don't want me. You want the ultimate victory by getting me in your bed and claiming me. You want me to be your greatest conquest and I am not going to let that happen."

Voldemort released him as suddenly as he had grabbed him and Harry sat up straight on the bed,

"Why did you drag Rabastan into this?"

Voldemort chuckled humourlessly,

"I dragged him?"

Harry nodded furiously and scooted over until his back was pressed against the headboard. Voldemort sat down on the edge of the bed,

"You said you wanted him. I merely gave him to you."

Harry's jaw dropped and he couldn't quite hide his surprise. Something about that statement made his heart flutter in his chest. Lie. It had to be a lie. Voldemort couldn't be that generous. Voldemort couldn't be that perfect. Harry corrected his expressions and scowled,

"You're lying."

Voldemort smiled sadly and rose to his feet,

"I told you I would lay the world down at your feet. You wanted Rabastan so I gave you Rabastan. If you want something else then you need only express it."

Harry pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. He didn't like sadness in those crimson eyes. He didn't like it one bit,

"Right now, I want you to feed me breakfast."

The joy that illuminated those crimson orbs was enough to ease Harry's guilt and smiled,

"Well get on with it unless you're planning on starving me."


	72. Chapter 72

"Wow, you absolutely suck at this."

Harry laughed and turned away his head as Voldemort attempted to get the fork to his mouth. They had been at it for the past fifteen minutes and Harry felt a wonderful sense of accomplishment because Voldemort hadn't been able to feed him a single bite of the pancakes. The fork dropped to the plate with a clatter and Harry grinned,

"Ready to give up?"

Voldemort had a maniacal grin on his face. Uh oh, that definitely wasn't good. In a flash, his wrists were bound over his head to the back of the bed and he found himself unable to move. He ground out,

"Let me go."

Voldemort's grin widened and he picked up the fork again. Harry kept his lips sealed shut and tossed his head from side to side so that Voldemort couldn't get the morsel into his mouth. Harry's head was forced to grow still when something soft snaked around his throat and pulled his head back against the bedstead. Damn it. He struggled against the restraints and coughed which caused a light to go off in his head and inspiration struck him. He struggled harder and coughed out,

"Can't…breathe…"

He definitely deserved an award for how suffocated he sounded. He wasn't expecting it to work but the restraints vanished and Voldemort was holding him close to his chest in an instant. Harry felt like he had been swept off his feet…in a good way of course. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach at the way Voldemort was holding him…asking him if he was alright…apologizing…he was bloody apologizing… He couldn't believe his ears. He had been talking to Deus about alternate universes last night. Had he somehow ended up in one? He was absolutely stunned…dazed…completely speechless…Why would Voldemort care about him? How could he care about him so much? This wasn't making any sense. His silence must have aggravated Voldemort further because he felt Voldemort's grip tighten on his body and he could hear the panic and worry in his voice. And then to top things off Rabastan rushed into the room and Harry saw how he paled with concern at the sight of them. He was on the bed beside them in an instant and rubbing his back. He heard him ask,

"What happened?"

Harry couldn't wrap his head around this…couldn't comprehend what he had done to warrant the care and compassion of these two men. As far as he knew his performance of being a prickly bastard was beyond exemplary then why? Why was he being showered with so much affection? Voldemort was about to lay him back on the bed when Harry held onto him. He felt Rabastan's warmth on his back and he spoke,

"I'm fine."

They didn't seem convinced so Harry laughed softly and whispered in Voldemort's ear,

"I can't believe you fell for that."

Harry practically felt the tension being drained out from Voldemort's and Rabastan's bodies. Before they could grab him, Harry slipped out from in between them and jumped off the bed. Voldemort practically growled out,

"Your well-being is not a laughing matter, Harry. Do you have any idea how terrified we were?"

Harry didn't miss the fact the Voldemort had used "we". He scuffed his nails on his shirt and made a show of examining them,

"Maybe you shouldn't have restrained me then."

Harry jumped back as Voldemort and Rabastan leapt off the bed together and stalked towards him. Harry felt a thrill run down his spine as he ran from the room and felt them hot on his heels. They landed on the couch in a tangle of limbs and Harry broke into giggles as two pairs of hands tickled him. He felt Voldemort grab his hands in one of his and felt Rabastan's arm snake around his waist. He was completely overpowered as they used their combined strength against him to hold him down. Harry squirmed and swore at them between breathless laughter while he felt a hand…Voldemort's or Rabastan's…Harry had no idea, slip under the hem of his shirt, dragging his nails lightly over his upper ribs. He moaned and his hips bucked up against Voldemort and rubbed their fabric-covered erections together. At the same time, he felt Rabastan's erection brush against his hips. They were all getting excited from the intimate contact. Harry gasped as he tried to shift away from the hands,

"S… stop… Lover…Stop…"

The hands went on tickling him relentlessly and Harry felt his eyes water as he laughed. Voldemort spoke in a low growl,

"You tried to play me. I believe that warrants some kind of punishment. Doesn't he deserve to be punished, Rabastan?"

Harry groaned when he heard Rabastan speak,

"Yes, He does."

Harry panted and laughed as he tried to writhe away from my tickling.

"It was a joke, Lover. Stop. For the love of Merlin, stop!"

* * *

Harry could never imagine how much his little joke had terrified him. He pretended to consider it. Harry's face was flushed, and strands of his raven black hair, damp with sweat, clung to his forehead and cheek. Except for the desire he could still see in his beautiful emerald green eyes, he looked like a someone who'd been thoroughly pleasured. He was so going to make that look a reality and had a delicious idea of how to do it. He let go of his hands and backed off him, pulling him into a seated position. Laughter, desire, and a question lurked in his eyes at them suddenly stopping the tickling. He was so damn beautiful when he looked at him like that. It was a miracle that he hadn't claimed him. He watched as Harry relaxed against Rabastan's body and whispered to him with a laugh,

"Traitor! You're supposed to be on my side, Rabi."

He smirked a little before he grabbed the edges of his shirt and yanked. Harry's eyes went wide, and he swore when the fabric tore. He grabbed his hands in a strong grip and scowled,

"Bastard, that was a new T-shirt and I liked it very much."

Rabastan pressed a kiss to his neck,

"I'll get you a new one."

Harry didn't seem placated and continued to glare up at him,

"I shall buy you a new one. I want to see you naked."

Harry's glare gained intensity and he gave a put-upon sigh and muttered something about finding the most expensive shirt he could to replace it before pushing him away and getting up to his feet,

"In your dreams."

He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his bare chest,

"Let's get a few things straight. You're not getting me naked. We're not having sex."

He reclined back in the couch and gave Harry a once over before saying,

"Ever?"

Something shifted in Harry's eyes…something like sorrow before it vanished and a self-assured grin lit up Harry's face and he shrugged,

"Who knows?"

He had a vision of turning Harry against the wall and taking him right then but shook it off. The time would come when Harry would consent and offer himself up willingly. It was just a matter of days. He just needed to be patient. Harry snapped his fingers and then spoke,

"I need a new shirt now unless you want me to go out like this."

Rabastan conjured a black button up and rose to his feet to hand it over. Harry pulled it on, buttoned it up and thanked Rabastan with a kiss to his cheek before focusing his gaze back on him,

"You still owe me a shirt, Lover."

He rose to his feet and asked,

"Where are you going?"

Harry finger combed his hair and spoke,

"I do have a ball to prepare for and I'm not trusting the Malfoys with this. Will you come with me, Rabi?"

He watched as Rabastan nodded silently and conjured Harry a pair of boots. Harry sat down on the edge of the couch and began pulling them on when he remembered something and looked up with a glint in his eyes,

"I got you some robes last night. I want you to wear them to the ball."

Something about the fact that Harry had gotten him something made warmth blossom in his chest and he spoke,

"Robes?"

Harry nodded as he finished lacing up his boots and spoke,

"Yeah, robes. I'm assuming you'll be at the Manor in the evening so I'll deliver them to your room personally provided those bloody Malfoys or Bella haven't messed with my things."

He didn't know what kind of robes Harry had gotten him but the excitement in his eyes was absolutely endearing. Harry waved him goodbye with a cheery smile before walking out of the apartment with Rabastan right behind him.


	73. Chapter 73

"WHERE THE HELL IS MY PACKAGE?"

Harry stood in the Manor's entrance and shouted out. He was incensed because he had checked his room and the package had been nowhere in sight. He swore if…His thoughts were cut short as Draco hurriedly made his way down the stairs and asked,

"Is there anything I can help you with, My Lord."

Harry grabbed him by his collar and shook him,

"Oh, don't you dare 'my lord' me. It might work with Voldemort but it won't work with me. Where's my package?"

Draco looked puzzled and Harry released him,

"My package. It contained some clothes that I purchased. I had it delivered here last night. Where the hell is it?"

Realization dawned on Draco's face and he spoke,

"Aunt Bella received it last night."

Harry cursed verbally and turned away from Draco. Rabastan rested a hand on his shoulder but Harry could practically feel himself fuming. Bella was begging for a fight and he was in mood to indulge her,

"Relax, Harry. I'll get it from her."

Harry hmphed in annoyance and stalked away towards the ballroom. He scanned the sunlit hall and made a mental list of things that he was going to change. Once he was done with that, he navigated his way to the kitchens and after finalizing his list of entrees, main course, desserts and drinks for dinner, handed it over to the house elves. When he returned to the ballroom, Rabastan handed him the bundle which looked surprisingly untouched and Harry finally smiled. He hugged him tight, thanked him and tossed the bundle to Draco, who was staring at them with a bugged-out expression,

"I want you to deliver that to my room."

When Draco had left, Harry wrapped an arm around Rabastan's waist and told him all the changes he wanted. When he was done, Rabastan smiled and pressed a kiss to his temple,

"Don't worry, Harry. Everything you want will be done."

Harry snorted and walked towards one of the stained-glass windows,

"I know it will be. I bet Voldemort has ordered them to stay out of my way today otherwise I'm sure I would have had a very interesting confrontation with Narcissa."

The rest of the day passed in a haze as Harry struggled to get everything perfect. By the end of the day, Harry was extremely pleased with himself and when he sampled the food, his joy increased tenfold. It was seven in the evening when Rabastan dragged him away from the ballroom and up to his room,

"You need to get ready. It won't look good if you're late to your own ball."

Rabastan was about to leave when Harry gripped his wrist and kissed his lips before pulling away abruptly. He didn't know why he'd done that. All he could feel was an illogical fear in his chest and a weird, twisted feeling in his gut. Rabastan eyed him for a moment before he touched his chin and tipped his face up,

"What's wrong, Harry?"

Harry swallowed and the concern on Rabastan's face only worsened what he was feeling,

"I'm fine."

He leaned in and brushed his lips against Rabastan's. Harry felt the way Rabastan tensed, his body taut with need. He spoke softly,

"I want it. Come on. Kiss me."

He brushed their lips together again. Rabastan instantly pulled him flush against him and sucked on his lip. Harry held him tighter and parted his lips. Rabastan's tongue stroked the inside his mouth, and Harry couldn't stop the small, needy sound that left his throat. Rabastan pulled back a little and Harry stared at him languidly,

"Are you alright?"

The feeling in his gut intensified but he smiled weakly and nodded.

"Are you sure?"

Harry nodded again and swiped his tongue across his lip. Groaning, Rabastan caught his tongue and sucked on it. Harry heard himself make that soft little gasp again, his hands gripped Rabastan's shoulders hard and savoured the kiss, just taking it and letting Rabastan do whatever he wanted with his mouth, and it was more arousing than it had any right to be. Rabastan thrust his tongue in his mouth and pulled him tighter, kissing him deeper, hungry and insatiable. He wanted him. He wanted to shove Rabastan onto the bed, tear his clothes off and kiss him everywhere. He wanted to make him beg to be touched. He wanted to claim Rabastan in every way possible. He wanted it so badly that he could barely think. He pulled Rabastan closer while his tongue went in deeper, his mouth growing more insistent as the desire threatened to engulf him. He was literally shaking, but he could do nothing about it. He couldn't control his body at all. It felt like something was broken inside of him. Rabastan was absolutely wonderful and he couldn't stop himself from wanting this again, and again, and again. Damn, he wanted to have him. He needed to take him.

Someone cleared their throat.

Damn it.

Breathing hard, Harry wrenched his lips away and found a death eater standing in the doorway. He glared at him murderously and ground out,

"What?"

Rabastan was blushing red and so was the death eater. He didn't relinquish his hold on Rabastan though and asked again,

"What the hell is it?"

The death eater bowed his head and murmured,

"The Dark Lord wishes to see you in his…ummm…his bedroom."

Harry nodded his head and dismissed him with a wave of his hand. Once he was gone, he kissed Rabastan's flushed cheek and yearn to whisper those three words in his ear. He bit his tongue and said instead,

"I'll see you in a while."

Rabastan nodded dazedly and Harry watched him leave with a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. What the hell was wrong with him? He coughed and opened the package. After setting aside his jeans and shirt, he grabbed the robes he had gotten for Voldemort and found the death eater waiting for him at the corner of the corridor. He still looked mortified but Harry signalled him to lead the way and followed him through an unfamiliar corridor and came to a halt outside a polished dark door. The death eater left and Harry pushed open the door without knocking. He found Voldemort standing in front of the mirror dressed in a pair of black pants and a black silk button up shirt. Harry resisted the urge to lick his lips at the sight. He looked absolutely impeccable. Harry stepped closer to him and wrapped an arm around his waist. Voldemort raised an eyebrow at him in the mirror,

"I expected to see you all dressed up."

Harry grinned and kissed his cheek,

"You don't get to see me all dressed up until the very last moment."

A beatific smile crossed Voldemort's handsome features and amusement lit up his crimson eyes,

"Perhaps I can see you dressed down then."

Harry laughed and pulled the robes over Voldemort's shoulder. He expected Voldemort to scowl or say something about the colour but Voldemort's smile only widened and for the second time in the last few minutes, he was overcome with the desire to say those three words…the three words that were reverberating inside his head…,

"They're absolutely beautiful."

Harry turned Voldemort around and took a step back to admire the view. The robes were nothing compared to how utterly beautiful Voldemort looked in them…far better than he had imagined. Voldemort's crimson eyes looked absolutely stunning and more noticeable,

"You look gorgeous, Lover."

Harry watched as Voldemort's jaw dropped,

"I believe that is the first real compliment you have paid me."

Harry shrugged and then spoke nonchalantly,

"Well I chose those robes for you. I knew they would make you look amazing so technically I paid myself a compliment."

Voldemort took his hand and brushed his lips against his knuckles,

"Thank you for bestowing me with such a wonderful gift."

Harry pulled away his hand and chuckled softly,

"Don't think that you can sway me with your pretty words. You still owe me a shirt."

Harry pressed a swift kiss to Voldemort's lips and swaggered out of the room with a grin on his face,

"See you later, Lover."


	74. Chapter 74

Harry lay curled up on the bed with his head buried in a pillow. Everything inside him was hurting way too much and the pain was bordering on unbearably excruciating. Every breath was a struggle, his lungs were desperate for oxygen, but his body would not cooperate. A string of harsh coughs shook his pale and fragile form, leaving him weaker than he had thought possible. The breaths he took were entirely too fast and shallow to be normal. He gripped a handful of the covers and pleaded for the agonizing pain in his chest to stop. The oxygen steadily flowing into his nose had no effect. Tears blurred his eyes, but he shut them tightly to avoid crying. He would not cry. That kind of behaviour was absolutely intolerable because he was not weak. He just had to take this until he got better or died.

Death, unfortunately, did not deem him worthy of its presence yet so when the fit passed, Harry forced himself to sit up straight. His body protested but he ignored it and willed himself to his feet. He was already late by an hour. The blooming blood stain stood in stark contrast to the white of the pillow case but he couldn't bring himself to care about it and dragged himself to the shower. Warm water was only going to slow him down so he turned the shower to cold. The icy cold water blasted over his body and Harry gasped but his body steadily grew accustomed to it. He felt more alert, more in control.

Fifteen minutes later, he emerged from the bathroom, wrapped up in a towel. It didn't take him long to get dressed up. The silk of the green button up that he wore felt wonderful against his skin and the jeans looked like they'd been painted on his legs but felt surprisingly comfortable. He left the top two buttons of his shirt open and tucked in half of the shirt just for that careless messy debauched look. After pulling on his socks, he grabbed a pair of calf length green dragon hide boots and laced them up. His hair didn't need much work. They were still a bit damp from the shower and contributed towards the look he was going for. Now he just had to wear the locket. He grabbed his discarded jeans from the floor and pulled out the pouch from the pocket. After he'd retrieved the locket from it, he tossed the pouch on the bed and pulled it on. He swore he could feel he tiny metal heartbeat right next to his.

The locket looked too flashy. He tucked it under his shirt so that only the chain was visible. Perfect. The shirt definitely brought out his eyes, drawing attention away from the ghostly pallor of his face. The only other splash of color was the bruise on his jaw. He wet his lips and smiled at his reflection in the mirror. A cough interrupted his smile. He didn't have much time left so he had to absolutely make the best of it. Tonight had to be perfect. If everything went well, maybe he would fall in bed with Voldemort and Rabastan. That queasy nauseous feeling twisted his guts again and Harry cursed. Why was he feeling that way? He wasn't nervous or anxious. Harry shook his head and stepped out of the room.

It didn't take him long to reach the ballroom and with every step he took, the feeling grew monumentally worse. Harry stood at the oak doors, drew in a deep breath, pushed all his feelings and sentiments deep down and strode forward so that the doors opened by themselves and he stepped into the ballroom. All conversation halted as he crossed the threshold and felt every single gaze in the room fixated on him. Harry cursed them all internally but kept a lazy grin plastered on his face. He spotted Voldemort and Rabastan at the far end of the ballroom and felt a genuine smile blossom on his lips at the sight of them. They looked beautiful together. Harry was certain that they would remain together even when he was out of the picture.

Shaking away those thoughts, Harry focused on the task at hand. He had to socialize so he got to it. Harry didn't miss the disdainful looks he received from the Death Eaters especially Bellatrix. Nicholai was the first to approach him and Harry cursed his rotten luck. He gave him an appreciative once over and purred…he bloody purred…the nerve of him. Harry offered his hand and Nicholai took it readily and brushed his cold lips over his knuckles,

"You can be easily mistaken as one of us, if one takes into account the pallor of your skin. It seems Lord Voldemort has not been taking proper care of you."

Harry laughed humorlessly and pulled away his hand,

"That is none of your concern."

Nicholai grinned predatorily and licked his lips,

"It is. After all you are still indebted to me and I do not intend to leave without receiving what I am owed."

Harry wanted to rip the bastard's head off or put a stake through his heart but since all those options were unavailable, a smile would have to suffice.

"Sure, Nick. So, tell me what do you want?"

Nicholai's grin widened. Harry was sure he was itching to get his hands all over him but refraining because they were currently in plain view,

"Well…I wanted your wonderfully delectable body but it seems that it is off the menu so your blood will have to do."

Harry tried not to let his shock show and kept his smile firmly pasted on his lips. Harry imagined that to anyone, who was watching them, it would seem like they were having a very pleasant conversation,

"You want my blood?"

Nicholai eyed his neck and licked his lips,

"Now."

Harry took a step back and repeated,

"Now?"

Nicholai nodded imperceptibly,

"Yes, Now. Unless you wish for me to break this alliance in front of all this audience and disgrace Voldemort."

Harry ground out,

"Bastard…"

Nicholai grinned smugly,

"Shall I take that as a yes or a no."

Harry cursed under his breath and spoke through clenched teeth,

"Yes, it's a yes. But I can't just disappear. Someone is bound to notice."

Nicholai's fingers wrapped around his wrist and Harry shivered involuntarily as he felt like he'd been doused with cold water. Nicholai grinned, displaying a mouth full of sharp teeth. Every last one was pointed, like a saw blade.

"There… now no one will notice that anything out of the ordinary is taking place here."

Harry drew in a deep breath. His heart was beating at a million beats per second,

"What did you do?"

Nicholai pulled out a pocket watch and showed Harry the time but before Harry could inquire what the hell that was for, Nicholai vanished the watch, brought his hand to his mouth and licked it,

"You are absolutely delightful. So feisty…"

He turned Harry's hand over, scraped those razor teeth over his wrist, and then bit. Nicholai's mouth felt like acid burning through his flesh. Harry couldn't even scream. An instant later, the pain diminished and Nicholai pulled away. Sharp spikes rattled against Harry's lungs when he tried to breathe. He felt as though he'd been crushed into and then dragged over broken glass. He managed to rasp out,

"This…This is the first and the last time you'll ever get your hands on me."

Nicholai ran a finger down Harry's neck and laughed,

"It is enough for me. I intend to take as much as I'll ever need from you in this moment."

Suddenly Nicholai's teeth ripped into the skin of his neck. Flaming spikes pierced his flesh. Harry's throat ached as though he screamed, but only whimpers came out. Those small sounds seemed to drive Nicholai on. Fingers dug into his shoulder and Harry felt Nicholai's nails sink into his flesh. He wanted the torment, the burning fire in his blood to stop.

It didn't stop. It lessened for a moment when Nicholai pulled his fangs away but then it returned as soon as his fangs pierced his skin again. He burned as if someone had set fire to the marrow in his bones. When he pulled back, he would've cried out in relief had he been able to make any sound at all. The short reprieve ended as ice sliced through his neck once again. Fire pulsed up in waves. The acid burn was too much. It was like glass daggers pierced every inch of his skin. Nicholai's hair fell against his face and shoulder. The fine strands slithered like maggots, then buried into his flesh. Harry's nerves screamed and seemed to rip out of his body. A buzzing filled his ears, and lightning flashed over his vision. But he didn't…couldn't…pass out. Something close to a wail finally escaped his lips.

Harry was dimly aware of Nicholai's arm around his waist, holding him up. A flask was being held to his lips and he was glad that he still had the sense to keep his lips sealed shut. Nicholai chuckled and spoke,

"If you wish to stay on your feet for the rest of the night then I suggest you drink this."

Harry opened his mouth and gulped the potion down. When he felt some of his strength return, he pushed Nicholai away and checked his wrist and then his neck. There wasn't a single mark on his wrist and the skin on his neck felt smooth as well. Nicholai conjured the same golden pocket watch and Harry reluctantly looked at the time. His eyes widened as he realized that only a minute had passed. Impossible. The pain had definitely lasted for more than a minute. Harry drew in a deep breath and when he was sure his voice wouldn't betray him, he spoke,

"We're even now."

Nicholai laughed and flicked his dark hair back over his shoulder,

"I agree. You tasted so much more exquisite than I expected. Pure ambrosia…"

Harry wanted to launch himself at Nicholai but he still felt a bit lightheaded and even if he had the strength, he couldn't. Harry turned away from Nicholai and spoke softly,

"I hope I never have the displeasure of seeing you again."

Nicholai merely whispered,

"There is no point in hoping for that. After all we are allies. Although I am glad to see that you are as spirited as earlier."

Harry could feel himself fuming and he was about to walk away when his vision blurred. It took him a moment to center himself and he cursed Nicholai,

"May I assist you?"

Harry balled his hands into fists and gritted out,

"No, thank you. I'm perfectly alright."

He stalked away from him and towards where Voldemort was standing, deeply engrossed in a conversation with the goblins. Harry pulled up his most cheerful expression and greeted them affably. Harry felt the head goblin's gaze rake over his body and saw his mouth curve into a leer,

"You look as stunning as ever, Mr. Potter."

Harry offered his hand and the head goblin shook it zealously,

"You flatter me, Sir. We are so glad that you could make it."

Harry watched the way Voldemort and Rabastan were gaping at him and smirked. The head goblin puffed up with pride,

"We wouldn't have missed this for the world. Although I was beginning to wonder about your presence."

Harry leaned down and whispered secretively in the head goblin's ear,

"I'm actually extremely unattractive under all the makeup and glamours. It takes me hours to make myself look this good."

The head goblin looked horrified for a moment before bursting into raucous laughter,

"Oh, Mr. Potter. Your sense of humor is out of this world."

Harry laughed and the entire delegation laughed with him along with Rabastan. Nicholai came to stand beside him as the vampire delegation joined them. Harry grabbed a flute of champagne from a hovering tray and watched as Voldemort, Rabastan and everyone else did the same. Whatever potion Nicholai had given him was really beginning to work because all traces of the pain were completely gone. Harry raised his glass,

"To our unbreakable alliance."

Everyone cheered in unison and Harry downed his champagne in one. He felt Voldemort's arm snake around his waist and heard him whisper in his ear,

"You look gorgeous."

Harry laughed softly and swatted away his hand,

"Flattery won't get you anywhere."

Nicholai drawled out,

"I am a bit lost. There are rumors going on that you were seen kissing a lowly death eater earlier this evening and now it seems that you have Lord Voldemort wrapped around your pretty little finger."

Harry turned around and met Nicholai's aquamarine gaze,

"Are you jealous? I can have as many men as I want, Nick, but you will never be one of them."

Nicholai was about to speak when Harry cut across him,

"And I was not kissing a lowly death eater. I was kissing the Head of Magical Law Enforcement."

Harry coughed and covered his mouth with his hand. When he looked up, Nicholai had a grin on his face,

"None of the men you have presumably had have made it to your bed nor have you made it to theirs since you are a virgin in every sense of the word."

Harry willed himself to calm down and felt his nails sink into the palms of his hand as he tried to keep his rage at bay,

"My virginity is none of your concern."

Harry turned away from Nicholai and willed himself to relax. He grabbed Voldemort and Rabastan and dragged them to the center of the hall,

"Dance with me."

The people moved out of the way and Harry snapped his fingers. Music started playing and Harry turned and faced them. Voldemort had a curious glint in his crimson eyes and Rabastan looked absolutely lost and oh so innocent. Harry pulled them closer to himself, his hips catching the beat of the music, tuning out everything…everyone… but his men and the need to move with them.

When they got close enough Harry kissed Voldemort, held his head by the back of his neck and just thrust his tongue down his throat. He pulled Rabastan in tight, letting go of Voldemort so that he could move away and slide behind Rabastan. He held onto Rabastan's hips and ground into him, feeling his cock pushing against his. Harry felt the music and pleasure thrumming through his blood and he attacked his mouth, claiming him right there on the ballroom floor, in front of about a hundred people.

Harry felt Rabastan's arms wrap around him and he kissed back; He could hear him moan and whimper into his mouth as he kissed him rough and ruthless. Their hips were moving with the music, and they were dancing. Voldemort's hands were sliding over his back, wrapping around from behind Rabastan, trapping Rabastan between them.

Harry broke away from Rabastan's mouth and kissed Voldemort, leaning around Rabastan, pulling him tighter to him. He was on fire. Want and passion burned him from the inside out. He felt giddy and something like desire coiled tight in his stomach. Harry heard someone moan and it took him a minute to realize that it wasn't one of them, it was someone from the crowd.

Harry blinked and then turned back to his men and kissed Rabastan again before pulling away from them both. He'd put on enough of a show for one night. Harry felt Bellatrix's and several gazes burn a hole into his back and smirked as he reached Nicholai and the goblin delegation,

"I hope you don't feel lost anymore, Nick."


	75. Chapter 75

Harry called for another drink for himself as the head goblin spoke,

"Mr. Potter, we would like to present you with a token of our appreciation."

Harry grabbed a drink from the tray that appeared in front of him and watched as Rabastan and Voldemort returned to his side. They wore matching mysterious smiles and the mischievous glint in Voldemort's crimson eyes was enough indication that he was going to be in trouble later…not the bad kind of trouble…But trouble nonetheless. He batted his eyelashes at the head goblin and spoke,

"Are you sure you want to present the token of appreciation to me, Sir?"

The head goblin waved away his inquiry and spoke,

"Of course, Mr. Potter. It is common knowledge that The Dark Lord is in possession of your wand and you lack a weapon to protect yourself. Your bar brawl last night garnered quite a lot of attention mainly because you fought with your bare hands. If you had been in possession of your wand, it might have been over with just one curse."

Harry smiled bitterly as he took a sip of his drink and glowered at Voldemort before turning his attention back to the head goblin, heaved a long-suffering sigh and spoke,

"Yes, sadly, Voldemort doesn't trust me with a wand. He believes I'll run off as soon as I get it back. Now, logic suggests that if I wanted to run to away then I would not be making such an effort to support him. What do you think? Do I seem like I intend to run away?"

Nicholai laughed,

"You are as unpredictable as the weather and as erratic as a tornado, Harry. Lord Voldemort's distrust is justified. Now, if you were in my captivity then I would most certainly keep you collared and chain. Someone as desirable as you is too precious to lose and absolutely irreplaceable."

Harry didn't deign Nicholai's statement worthy of a reply so he pretended not to have heard him and raised a questioning eyebrow at the head goblin who looked a bit flustered and was eyeing his neck. Harry was willing to bet that he was imagining a collar there. The head goblin snapped his fingers and a bundle wrapped in black silk appeared in his tiny arms,

"This is for you, Mr. Potter."

Harry was absolutely curious about the contents of the bundle. He handed his drink to Rabastan, took it from the head goblin and unwrapped it. The silk slipped to the floor revealing sleek black metal. It was a sword. He knew it from the build and the structure but it was unlike any sword he'd seen. It was nearly weightless but thrummed with power. He traced his fingers over the cold metal and then gripped the handle to unsheathe it. A black double-edged blade twice as long as Godric Gryffindor's sword appeared. Looking at it made Harry's stomach churn. Something about the metal…it crawled through his mind and called to him at a spiritual level. He was absolutely fascinated by it as he ran his finger over the blade. The head goblin spoke and Harry lost his focus and cut his finger on the ultra-sharp blade,

"The blade of… Oh, sorry, Mr. Potter. I did not mean to startle you."

Harry stared at the cut on his finger and watched dazedly as the metal soaked up his blood and emanated a hellish red glow. The temperature dropped by several degrees in the hall and he was certain that he wasn't the only one who felt it. A deathly silence filled the hall as all conversation came to an abrupt halt. Harry couldn't take his eyes away from the glowing blade. It felt like he had an infinite amount of power at his disposal. Voldemort's sharp voice cut through the silence,

"What in the world is that?"

Harry tore his gaze away from the blade and looked up. He noticed the trepidation on Rabastan's face and a look of pure rage on Voldemort's as he glared at the head goblin, who looked absolutely flustered and utterly thunderstruck. He stammered,

"The…The blade of Asmodeus."

Nicholai's dark laughter rang through the silence of the hall,

"You believed it was counterfeit, did you not, little Goblin? You believed it was a fake. That is why you gifted it to him. If you had known its true power then you would never have let it out of your greedy hands."

Voldemort was shaking his head and the head goblin looked absolutely flabbergasted. Harry didn't know what powers the blade had but he knew that it was bothering the head goblin that he had given it away. Well, too bad for him because he had no intentions of returning it now. He smirked wickedly and asked,

"So, judging by your faces, I am guessing that this is something extremely powerful. Now would any of you care to explain who the hell is Asmodeus?"

Voldemort looked absolutely exasperated, the head goblin looked like he was about to curl up and die and Nicholai's aquamarine eyes were glinting with amusement,

"Asmodeus is known as the demon of lust…The prince of lechery..."

Harry burst into uncontrollable giggles and swung the sword in the air,

"The demon of lust…The prince of lechery…Oh Merlin, this is just incredible."

The blade stopped glowing and Voldemort spoke,

"You shall not be keeping that."

Harry tightened his hold on the hilt and ground out,

"No bloody way. You're not taking this away from me."

Voldemort vanished and before Harry could turn around, the sword was yanked away from his grip followed by a shout of agony. Harry spun on the spot and found Voldemort's hand wrapped around the hilt, his eyes closed and his teeth biting into his lower lip to contain another cry. The sword was searing into his flesh. The flesh of his hand turned grey, then white, rimmed with red. It looked as if he'd stuck it in glowing coals. Harry snatched the sword from his hand before it could hurt him anymore and watched as Rabastan rushed forward to heal him. Harry sheathed the sword with a curse as his stomach twisted into knots. He hadn't wanted Voldemort to get hurt. He stepped closer to them and asked Rabastan,

"Is his hand going to be alright?"

Rabastan smiled assuredly and spoke,

"It already is…Look…"

Voldemort's hand looked perfectly healed and had regained a healthy color,

"Did it worry you, Harry?"

Harry bit back his sigh of relief and scoffed,

"No, I knew you'd be fine."

Voldemort smiled and patted his cheek,

"You were worried."

Before Harry could refute that, Nicholai spoke,

"I am not surprised that the sword has already bonded with him. He is the only one who can wield it now. Anyone else who attempts to shall be reduced to ash."

Harry looked down at the sheathed sword in his hand and was about to speak when a flash of blinding green light illuminated the hall. Harry had no time to react as his eyes fluttered shut reflexively. He was suddenly wrapped up in an embrace and recognized the familiar warmth almost instantly.


	76. Chapter 76

Harry forced his eyes open and wrapped his arms around Rabastan. Accompanying the green light was a shadow. Harry felt unable to move…he felt frozen in place…rooted to the spot… There were magnificent black wings, huge and bird-like, extending from its back. Harry saw its glowing eyes in the shadow. Death was here and someone was about to die. He wanted to scream when the shadow approached them but his lips felt like they had been sewn shut. He wanted to push Rabastan away…as far away from this shadow as possible but he was paralyzed. The shadow was right behind Rabastan now. Rabastan was yanked away from his arm and it flexed its wings, wrapping them around him and concealing him from sight. Despair welled in his heart. He wanted to stop him. If only he could move…if only he could speak…he would trade himself for Rabastan. The desolation he felt was all consuming. His mind became an icy wasteland, the wind howled in his soul and wrapped icy tentacles around his heart so tightly it almost stopped beating. The shadow grinned at him,

"Do not fret. I shall come to fetch you very soon."

Rage…That was what he felt as he struggled to move. It was like a vexing of the soul for what he felt was not human, it was twisted and distorted but it was something strong. It burned so bad like fire lacing his veins and creeping up his spine. All he could feel was desire; desire to hate. He was intoxicated with the emotion, the acidity of it was residing in his stomach waiting to be spat out of his mouth in foul and vulgar words if he were able to open his mouth. He knew he would be stared at for saying, except he wasn't going to say them, he was going to screech them with every ounce of breath that dwelled in his lungs. He couldn't…he wouldn't…He had to get Rabastan back…The shadow disappeared and whatever force that had been holding him immobile and silent vanished as well. The hall came back into focus and along with it the sounds and shouts. Harry clenched his jaw as he held onto Rabastan's body...He knew…he knew the soul had departed. He had watched death steal him away from him. He had just stood idly and watched him being stolen away. The warmth was gone…he would never feel it again… The form in his arms wasn't Rabastan…he was gone…His Rabastan was gone forever. The dead weight in his arms wasn't Rabastan…it wasn't…Death had taken him away…stolen him away…Voldemort's voice and Bella's raucous cackles tore through his senses,

"Harry…"

Harry wasn't aware of when he pushed Rabastan's lifeless body into Voldemort's arms,

"Don't you dare let him fall."

Bella's boisterous laughter fuelled the fire that burned inside of him. Every giggle was like gasoline to it, his fists began to clench and his jaw rooted. He finally exploded with anger, with no control objects levitated and broke. The chandelier shattered and a million shards rained like tiny daggers over everyone. The stain glassed windows exploded in a flurry of colour. People shouted and dropped to the floor as their primeval instincts took over. The hall was plunged into a shadowy darkness and an icy bitter cold swept through it. The colourful flashes of light that flew in his direction never managed to touch him and he imagined Voldemort had something to do with that. He unsheathed the sword in a flash and in the blink of an eye, he had Bellatrix pinned to the ground and held the sword over her throat. Fear was evident in her dark eyes and he felt savage pleasure at the sight. Fear was such a small emotion for what he intended to do to her…She was going to pay for Sirius…for his Rabastan…,

"You aren't capable of killing me."

One swipe of the sword and he could behead her but death was a mercy that he would not allow her. He laughed cruelly and chopped off her wand hand with a simple twist of his wrist. She began to scream as a fountain of blood erupted and soaked his face and shirt. He swiped his thumb over his blood covered cheek and sucked on it…hoping that the sweet taste of revenge would calm the storm of emotions in his chest. It didn't and he chopped off her other hand so that she would never be able to use a wand again. He ran his blood covered fingers through his hair and rose to his feet,

"I am not going to let you die because I fully intend to savour your screams, Bella dear."

He grabbed Rodolphus by the scruff of his neck and spoke,

"If you ever loved your brother then you will help me exact revenge from this bitch."

Rodolphus nodded shakily and Harry released him,

"Heal her before she bleeds out and lock her up downstairs."

Everything was silent around him. He sheathed his blood-stained sword and turned around. Voldemort was clutching Rabastan's lifeless form close to his chest and the image shattered his already crushed heart. The look on Voldemort's face was a mixture of pure rage and unadulterated grief. Nicholai and the head goblin wore matching grim expressions and stood by their delegations,

"Party's over. You can leave now."

He moved to where Voldemort was standing and finally took in the sight of Rabastan's face. In life, Rabastan had always had a ready smile and knowing eyes. In death he was ghostly pale, his lips, the lips he had tasted…kissed only a few moments ago, were already bluish. Though his eyes were closed he didn't have the appearance of sleep, even in deep slumber there are tiny movements and a healthy glow to the skin. This lifeless shell, so still on the earth, is his flesh and seeing it is how I know he has departed. He had left them for a new life, for whatever followed this existence. Yet, even though he knew he was gone, he kissed his head lightly and stroked back his dark hair. It was part of bidding him farewell and making a wish that they are together again in whatever came next.

Harry wrapped his arms around Rabastan's body…so that he was once again wedged between him and Voldemort…just like he had been a few minutes ago… How had things gone from good to bad to worst so fast? He wanted to shake Rabastan and ask him why…why had he sacrificed himself to save his shortened life? Why had he loved him so much when he had done nothing to warrant it? It was like a void. A never ending dark void that could never be filled. Those three unspoken words burned in his throat like smouldering coals and he wished he'd said them.

He coughed, reminding him of what death had said. No, he was not going to let it win. His grip tightened on Rabastan's body. He was not going to let Rabastan's sacrifice go in vain. Besides, he had no hope of ever seeing Rabastan or Sirius after death. They would be in heaven and he was definitely headed for hell after everything he had done…everything that he intended to do. He pressed a kiss to Rabastan's head and pulled away. The vampires, the goblins and the death eaters hadn't moved an inch. He raised an eyebrow and addressed them,

"Are you waiting for the part where I breakdown and wail for my lost love? I'm extremely sorry to disappoint you but that will not be happening. So, I suggest that you leave now."

Nicholai stepped closer and patted him on the shoulder with a solemn expression,

"You and I need to talk."

Harry's grip tightened on the sword and he ground out,

"No, we don't."

Nicholai pulled his hand away and spoke softly,

"I know we have had our differences but if you ever require my aid, do not hesitate to contact me."

Harry felt too nettled to comprehend what Nicholai was playing at or what he hoped to gain by this,

"Why do you think I would require your aid?"

Nicholai snapped his fingers and a vampire dragged a shouting, screaming Rodolphus into the hall. Harry looked questioningly at Nicholai and Nicholai spoke,

"He was trying to escape with his wife. You are fairly new to this so understand this. You absolutely cannot trust other people's sentiments. You trusted him because you thought he loved his brother…he obviously loved his wife more…"

Nicholai wasn't able to finish the sentence and Rodolphus's shouts died down as Harry beheaded him with one swift stroke of his sword. He watched with vicious gratification as the head lolled away and the body collapsed to the ground. He looked at the gathered death eaters and shouted,

"THIS IS GOING TO BE THE END OF ANYONE WHO HOLDS A SMIDGEON OF SYMPATHY FOR THAT TRAMP!"

Harry turned to Voldemort and pointed a finger at him,

"That goes for you too. If you try to save her from me again, I will destroy you."


	77. Chapter 77

Darkness lurked just at the edges of his vision and he couldn't shake it off no matter how hard he tried. Nicholai gripped his wrist and dragged him out of the hall despite his protests. He pushed him into a room and everything went black for a moment. When his sight returned, Nicholai was holding him up and the sword was laying on the floor. Harry tried to push him away but his limbs felt too unresponsive,

"You need to rest."

Harry coughed and covered his mouth with his hands. He made another feeble attempt to push Nicholai away and was once again met by failure,

"Let me go."

Nicholai tsked,

"No. I am responsible for you as long as you suffer from the weakness that I caused you."

Harry laughed weakly and felt his knees soften. Nicholai's grip tightened on him and he spoke,

"You're responsible for me now? You should have thought of this before you sucked me dry."

He coughed again. Damn it, he didn't need this. Not now…Not in front of bloody Nicholai. He finally succeeded in shoving Nicholai away and collapsed on his knees. His hands balled into fists as everything swam in and out of focus. Tears burned at the corner of his eyes and it was taking him all his strength to hold them back,

"Leave me alone."

Something inside him felt very very wrong and he was about to reach for the sword when Nicholai dragged him up to his feet and supported him,

"I shall leave you alone as soon as you have recovered from the blood loss."

Harry wanted to stamp his feet, he wanted to shout…scream…He wanted to cry…

"I am taking you with me."

Harry looked up at him and met his aquamarine gaze sternly,

"What the hell?"

He was about to push him away when Nicholai grabbed him hard around the waist,

"I did not ask you for your permission. I am merely informing you."

Harry tried to get free…he fought with all his remaining strength but it was all for nought and he slumped forward against Nicholai,

"Would you have preferred it if you had blacked out in the ballroom when you had managed to successfully intimidate everyone?"

He hated this…hated feeling so weak…He had to be with Rabastan. He needed to make preparations for his funeral…Rabastan was gone…really gone…Why did it feel like he was having a nightmare and any moment now, he would wake up between Voldemort and Rabastan. The tears threatened to break free and he pushed them back. This wasn't a nightmare. It was all real. This was really happening,

"I shall bring you to the funeral."

Harry had no hope of fighting Nicholai when he knew he was seconds away from passing out. And Nicholai was right. If he passed out here then Voldemort and all his bloody death eaters would know that he wasn't as strong as he had led them to believe,

"I don't trust you."

Nicholai chuckled darkly,

"You do not have a choice."

Harry looked down at the floor and spoke,

"My sword."

Harry's vision darkened once again and when it returned he found himself in a extravagantly decorated bedroom. The curtains were a thick red velvet that hung in generous folds around the mullioned windows and were lined with thick cotton of deepest plum. Nicholai laid him down on the bed and caressed his cheek, his other hand sinfully roaming over his body,

"Go to sleep, sweetheart."

Harry would have gritted his teeth and shoved Nicholai away if he'd had the strength but he didn't. Every nerve in his body screamed that he was in trouble. He looked around but couldn't locate the sword,

"My…my sword."

Nicholai's laughter was the last thing he heard before he passed out.

* * *

He sat back in a chair and stared at the ceiling blankly. He could never have imagined that Rabastan's death would cause him so much pain. The aching hollow sensation in his chest would not subside no matter how hard he tried. He had never felt anything like this before. The pain was so unfamiliar…so gut wrenching yet it didn't feel wrong. It felt necessary. The memories played on the forefront of his mind and he bit back a cry. A few stray tears streamed down his cheeks and he wiped them away. The awful hollowness, the waves of wretchedness threatened to engulf his mind, body and soul.

He had never experienced grief until now. It felt like an emptiness in his heart, a shear of nothingness that had somehow taken over and held his already shattered soul and threatened to kill him entirely. It gave him a heavy feeling that like the weight of the world was resting on his shoulders and there was nothing he could do to get out from under it. It was like a hole in his heart…a hole where Rabastan had just begun to reside.

Sadness. Something he had never understood. Why be sad of something which had already happened? After all, there had never been any point in crying over spilled milk. He had never hesitated in taking a life…never stopped to think about how his actions had affected others…he had never felt remorse… But now, now that he was feeling it, it was like being stabbed in the heart a thousand times without dying. Why was he feeling this now? The only possible explanation was that it was the memories that created emotions and it was the emotions that create those memories. His memories of Rabastan were so vivid…so full of life that it was hard to imagine that he was really gone. He could still taste him on his lips.

He leaned back in his chair and sighed. Love and sorrow, the twins...He should have known this would happen when he had realized his love for Harry last night. Love without sorrow was not love at all and was that not the reason why he had resented it…why he had so openly despised it…ridiculed it…Love came first, sweet and strong and weakened people and then sorrow came forward and broke them down. It was bitter irony that he had been subdued by them now. The loss felt more than his heart could take. Rabastan was like a shadow lingering in the depths of his mind. It was a strange thing to lose something which you once had, like a limb torn from your body without the chance to save it. That was what he felt now. He hadn't just lost Rabastan today, he had lost Harry as well. The blame had been so obvious in his eyes and it was there rightfully so. He should have killed Bella when Harry had asked him to…or he should have let him kill her. This would not have happened if he had just listened to Harry…He was certain that Harry would never forgive him. Rabastan's blood was on his hands.

That was why he had stood by and watched Harry mask his grief with his anger and explode in a fit or rage. He had felt so dissolved in the kind of despair that had taken his mind prisoner when Harry had thrust Rabastan's lifeless form in his arms, otherwise he would have killed and tortured that whore himself.

He looked down at his hands. He might have forgone the blood of the countless innocents he had slaughtered but Rabastan's blood would never leave his hands. The grief surged with every expelled breath, it reached higher peaks. Tears began to spill from his eyes and he could no longer hold them back.

Nicholai had informed him of Harry's breakdown two hours ago. He was relieved that he had taken him away. It would have hurt him further if he had stayed here. He would have only hated him more the longer he had stayed here. He had no doubt that Harry would have erased most of the pureblood families if he had stayed a minute longer in that hall. He was worried about him… in fact, he was more than worried. Harry had grown suicidal after his Godfather's death. How would Rabastan's death affect him in the long run? He closed his eyes and wiped away the tears. What had he been reduced to? This was all Harry's doing. He shouldn't have fallen in love with him. He shouldn't want him…Harry was more unattainable now than he had ever been and he should give him up as a lost cause.

He knew he was a fool to keep yearning for Harry's love…his heart… But nothing could erase that yearning…nothing could ever diminish the love he felt for him. So, he would gladly be a fool and feel pride in it. He would be a fool for his love anytime, anyplace, anywhere and no matter how much time it took, he would have Harry in the end…He would have him no matter what.


	78. Chapter 78

Harry woke up coughing but as soon as he tried to move his hands, the sound of clanking caught his attention and he realized with cold dread that he wasn't able to move them. For a moment, the world was a blur of dull colours. Then, as he properly awoke, everything came into focus. Harry desperately wished he hadn't, for he found himself once more in that wretched room. Shackles were tied around his ankles and wrists, chaining him to the bed. Every time he so much as shifted, the chains made echoing noises that seemed to go on forever. Something soft was wrapped around his throat. The feeling grew more pronounced as he gulped. A collar…A bloody collar. He cursed and tried to push himself up into a sitting position but failed.

He glared up at the ceiling. Chained and collared. Nicholai had certainly fulfilled his fantasy. He was going to make him pay for this…He was going to make Nicholai wish he wasn't born. The voice inside his head interrupted his thoughts and chimed,

If you get out of here

Harry banged his head against the pillow and wanted to shut up that voice. He swore it came alive at the most inappropriate of times. He ran his gaze around the room. The curtains had been drawn and he wondered what time it was. Rabastan… The funeral…Had he missed it?

Serves you right

Harry buried his face in the pillow and screamed, hoping against hope that it would drown out that bloody voice in his head. When his head was relatively quiet, he turned over again and stared at the ceiling. Sadness sat an inch below Harry's face. He willed his eyes to remain dry and kept his expression impassive. He knew that if he even let a fraction of it out, the rest would follow, a never-ending torrent of grief. He couldn't afford that. Not now when he wasn't sure what Nicholai intended to do with him. The door opened and Harry kept his gaze focused on the ceiling but clenched his teeth. He felt the mattress shift and Nicholai spoke in a dark, velvety voice that grated on Harry's nerves,

"You look absolutely stunning. Better than I could have ever imagined."

Harry turned his head as soon as Nicholai reached out to touch him and his hands balled into fists. Nicholai dropped his hand and chuckled darkly,

"I adore your defiance. Even now when I have you subdued, your spirit refuses to yield."

Harry spun his head and finally met Nicholai's lustful aquamarine gaze,

"What the hell do you want from me?"

Nicholai's perfect eyebrows arched with amusement and he gripped his chin before Harry could avoid it,

"I thought you were smarter than this, Harry."

Nicholai ran his finger over the collar and laughed cruelly,

"This collar is more than a mere trinket. It will suppress all of your restless magical energy."

Nicholai tiled his head and purred appreciatively. Harry kept his gaze fastened on Nicholai's and spat on his face. Instantly, Nicholai's handsome features morphed into an ugly visage of rage and Harry felt like his jaw was going to shatter in his bone crushing hold. Nicholai wiped his face with his other hand and Harry felt internally terrified as those aquamarine eyes glittered with unnatural malice and a truly malevolent smirk formed on those voracious red lips. He would die before he let his fear show,

"You have no idea what I am capable of, Sweetheart."

Harry laughed and made sure his eyes conveyed his fearlessness as he bit out,

"Do your worst."

Nicholai finally released his jaw and Harry was sure he had left bruises if the throbbing pain was anything to go by,

"I do intend to."

Nicholai's hand cracked across his face, snapping it back with the force of his blow and causing his head to reel sickeningly with the force of the impact. When black dots quit covering his vision, he found Nicholai holding his already bruised chin again, his sharp nails sinking into his skin and causing tiny rivulets of blood to stream down his collared neck. The pain of his hold nearly caused him to let out a startled little gasp of pain but he bit the inside of his cheek and stopped it from leaving his mouth. When he was sure his voice wouldn't betray him, he snapped out,

"Is that the best you've got?"

Nicholai growled and ripped his shirt straight off his body and as the cool air struck his bare skin, the gravity of the situation finally began to affect him. His stomach sank and his heart was threatening to beat out of his chest. Fear acted like a knife in his gut which was slowly being twisted, it was a constant hammering on his head. Harry refused to leave Nicholai's gaze. He refused to let his fear show. He had faced worse…far worse at Dumbledore's hands. Nothing could be worse than that. He forced himself to smirk and felt the fear evaporate like water under an early summer sun. Fear was an illusion. It was just an illusion.

Nicholai smirked demonically and released his jaw to brush his hair away from his forehead,

"Be careful what you ask for, sweetheart."

The pain had an unpleasant warmth to it, it ate at his stomach. There was nausea too, just enough to make him hold onto the chains binding his wrists for support and control his breathing. He had prized his ability to ignore pain but that just wasn't possible at the moment and his ability proved to be bloody useless. The pain steadily owned him and dominated every thought. Harry struggled to push it away. The pain spiked and it turned sharp like a needle point or a knife. His back arched as the pain rushed through his body like an igniting fire. it burned his innards better than boiling water. Everything felt scorched. His muscles felt as though they had been flash-burned with acid from the inside.

He was in more pain than he could have ever imagined was possible and it only continued to grow. It increased in waves, small lulls giving false hope of an end. Each peak robbed his ability to speak, fraying his delicate self-control. He wouldn't scream…he wouldn't scream…He just wouldn't scream.

But it was so bloody difficult not to scream when his blood had become acid, intent on destroying him from the inside out. All he could do was writhe, the occasional whimper escaping to echo off the walls. The paralyzing hurt spread through his body like icy, liquid metal. His grip tightened on the chains and he felt them rubbing against his wrists, tattering his skin. His body twitched and his jaw tightened. Fire in the form of water stung eyes, threatening to spill. He crunched his teeth over his lip harder than he ever had. Bitter, metallic blood filled his mouth. Reality tried to tap its way into his hazy pain filled thoughts. This pain would go on forever. There was no end in sight. There was no Rabastan to rescue him this time. He was utterly helpless.


	79. Chapter 79

The pain vanished as abruptly as it had started and left Harry feeling drained and tethering on the verge of the consciousness. He hadn't screamed…He was sure he hadn't screamed and that knowledge brought him satisfaction and utter contentment. He grinned and expected Nicholai to rip his throat out and tear him apart but that didn't happen. Instead Harry felt the chains slither away from his wrists and his hands dropped to his sides. What the hell? Had Nicholai given up? Was this another game? He cracked open an eyelid and despite the lingering pain in his body, he pushed himself to a sitting position, ripped the collar away from his throat and threw the offensive thing as far away from himself as possible. Rubbing the raw skin of his wrists, he sniggered,

"Did you give up so soon, Nick?"

When he looked up, the sight that greeted him forced him to gasp. Nicholai was pinned to the wall by what seemed like liquid darkness. It was wrapped around his wrists, his ankles, his waist, his throat and his mouth. He didn't know what had happened but this was pretty amazing. He stopped rubbing his wrists and forced himself to his feet to take a closer look. Nicholai's aquamarine gaze was filled with animalistic rage. Harry leaned forward, gripped Nicholai's chin and cooed,

"Awww it doesn't feel so nice to be bound up, does it, Nick?"

He released his chin and struck him hard across the face. The sound echoed around the room and Harry felt savage pleasure in his chest at the way Nicholai's head snapped to his side by the force of the blow,

"Revenge is definitely sweet."

He brought his finger close to Nicholai's bond and was about to touch them when a voice spoke from behind him,

"Don't touch them. You'll get burned."

Harry spun around and clamped his hand over his mouth to hold back his gasp. He didn't know who he'd been expecting but it hadn't been him…,

"Deus?"

Deus stepped closer to him. His blonde hair seemed to glow golden but his face was all wrong. That cherubic face was distorted into an ugly demonic grin and the blue eyes were filled with cruelty. Harry shivered internally and resisted the urge to take a step back. Had he been pulled out of the frying pain just to be tossed into the fire? Deus…if it really was him…took a step closer to him and his grin grew wider,

"Your fear and distrust are justified, Mon Ravissement."

Deus's voice was nothing like it had been that night at the club. It was creepy and made his skin crawl. Harry crossed his arms over his bare chest and felt the warm locket against his skin. He had forgotten he was wearing that,

"I have no idea what you just said but it sounded wrong."

Deus threw his head back and laughed. Harry gritted his teeth and resisted the urge to cover his ears because the sound was worse than nails on a chalkboard,

"This is why I chose you, Harry. You are the perfect model of defiance in the face of adversity and an absolute delight to watch."

He was so done with this. He needed to get back. Hopefully he wouldn't have missed Rabastan's funeral. He stepped around Deus and began walking out of the room. He had no idea where he was but he would find a way out and get away from this place,

"Thanks for all your help, Deus."

He hadn't even reached the door when Deus appeared in front of him and blocked his way. Harry looked up at him and quirked up an eyebrow,

"Do you want your payment for saving me?"

Deus shook his head and cupped his face,

"No, Mon Ravissement."

Harry sighed and stepped away from his touch,

"What then?"

He was tired of these games. He was tired of everything. He just wanted to curl up in a quiet corner and mourn Rabastan's loss. Deus snapped his fingers and watched as the sword materialized in his other hand. He extended it towards him and Harry hesitated. How was Deus touching it? Nicholai had said that no one but him could touch it. It had to be a fake,

"I don't have time for your tricks. Just do what you want to me and get this over with. I have a funeral to get to…if it hasn't already ended."

Deus unsheathed the sword and held the blade up so that Harry could catch a glimpse of it. There was something carved on the black metal surface and Harry had to inch closer to read what it was. Two names…one written on top of the other…

Asmodeus

Harry James Potter

The knowledge hit him like a lightning bolt and Harry wanted to bang his head against the wall for not seeing it sooner. Asmodeus…Deus…Damn it. He had been so stupid. He looked up and internally cringed at how spine-chilling Deus's grin was,

"So, you're the demon of lust."

Deus brushed back a lock of his hair away from his forehead and Harry repressed a shiver,

"The one and only."

Harry eyed the sword in Deus's hand and asked,

"How long have you been following me around?"

Deus laughed his weird creepy laugh again and Harry sighed,

"Can you please stop laughing? It's very nerve grating. I hate it."

Deus stopped laughing and swiped his thumb over his lips,

"Hell can be a very boring place and currently you are the most entertaining thing residing on this plane."

Harry was about to take a step back when Deus grabbed a hold of the chain and held him in place,

"Entertaining thing? Really? I can't say I'm glad that I caught your attention."

Deus held him in place and leaned closer to him,

"Well, I am very glad that you did. You see, I know all about your little secret…You are on your way to hell…to me… I simply could not wait to have you on my plane so I came to visit you here. You proved to be my best discovery and far better than I imagined you to be."

Harry closed his eyes and sighed. Faking nonchalance was the only way to get himself out of this.

"I have no idea what you're talking about and by the way, you're a terrible demon of lust because I can't imagine anyone being attracted you with that voice, that smirk and that laugh."

Deus released the chain and Harry saw his face revert to what it had been that day at the bar…Purely innocent, his mannerisms reverted to the shy person he had met that day and his blue eyes grew wide and so full of naivety. He spoke and his voice was purely melodic…Angel…Just like that night…Angel was the only word that came to his mind. Well he still didn't feel anything for him just like he had felt nothing that night. Harry grinned and patted him on his cheek,

"Nice try but that won't work on me."

Deus features contorted once again and that unworldly demonic grin was back,

"That is why you are so special, Mon Ravissement. You are immune to my magics."

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation. He just wanted to get away from this place,

"If you're done with your bloody ranting then can I leave now?"

Deus smirked and released the chain,

"You cannot attend a funeral looking like that. Let me dress you up."

Harry laughed and moved towards the bed where the remains of his tattered silk shirt lay,

"Are you supposed to my Fairy Godmother?"

Deus spun him around and snapped his fingers,

"More like your Guardian Demon."

Harry forced himself to remain still as that velvety liquid darkness creeped out of Deus's fingers and began to wrap around him. Was Deus going to tie him up like he had tied up Nicholai? Well, he forced himself not to be terrified. He was going to get out of this. He expected the darkness to be cold but it wasn't…It was surprisingly warm as it enveloped him and felt oddly pleasant when it came in contact with his skin. Harry closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath as it began to cover his face. He mentally prepared himself for suffocation but that didn't happen,

"Open your eyes, Mon Ravissement."

Harry did and came face to face with himself. He was dressed up in a fitted black suit that seemed like it had been sewn on him, his raven black locks were behaving themselves and looked oddly tame. His pale skin was the same though but his eyes conveyed his grief perfectly. His lips looked like they'd been painted red. The marks and bruises from his face were gone. He looked relatively untouched…he felt relatively pain free. Deus forced the handle of the sword in his hand and spoke,

"It is rightfully yours as long as you live."

Harry wrapped his fingers around it and smirked at Deus's reflection,

"So, you mean to say that it's mine forever?"

A flicker of confusion crossed Deus's face and Harry's smirk widened,

"Don't think too much. I don't want you to hurt your little demon brain."

Deus was about to say something when Harry cut across him and spoke,

"Aside from being a terrible demon of lust, you happen to be a lousy guardian demon too. You were supposed to save me before Nicholai started torturing me."

Deus snatched away his glasses and handed him a pair of black sunglasses,

"Your eyes give you away."

Harry slid the sunglasses on. He had thought he wouldn't be able to see a thing through them but surprisingly he saw everything too clearly and in great detail. He couldn't recall his vision ever being so sharp,

"Thanks. Can I go now?"

Deus slid his glasses into the pocket of his suit jacket and traced the air with a finger. For a moment, he couldn't understand what he was doing but when a dark portal appeared. It became all too clear,

"Step right through."

Harry eyed the portal suspiciously,

"Are you luring me into hell?"

Deus pushed him in and spoke,

"I don't have to lure you there. You are already on your way."

Harry laughed as he stepped in,

"I  _was_  on my way. Visiting hell is not on my bucket list anymore."


	80. Chapter 80

Harry stepped out of the dark portal and as soon as he got his bearings he realized where he was. He was standing at the shore of the lake. The same shore where Voldemort had come when he had grabbed his arm that day to stop him from vanishing. The place had felt special that day. Harry was certain that this place held some special meaning for Voldemort. The fact that Voldemort had arranged Rabastan's funeral here spoke volumes of how much Voldemort had begun to care for him.

About a hundred chairs had been set out in rows and almost all of them had been filled. An aisle ran down the centre of them and there was a low marble table standing at the front. Harry searched the crowd for Voldemort but he wasn't here yet. People were whispering to each other and the sound grated on Harry's nerves.

Steeling himself Harry made his way through the aisle towards the front row and all conversations came to a halt as he felt every gaze in the vicinity zero in on him. And then the murmurs started and Harry could clearly hear what the people were saying about him…Jinxed…That was the keyword of every conversation. It wasn't wrong though. He brought death and destruction to the people who cared about him or the people he cared about. Maybe if Rabastan had just been another death eater then he would still be alive.

The sun shone brilliantly and the virescent colour of the day under its glare was offensively bright and cheerful. It was as if they conspired to show him how the world would go on without Rabastan. It shouldn't. Everything should be as grey and foggy as his emotions. it should be cold and damp with silent air. But the birds still sang and the flowers still bloomed. He walked through the aisle like a silhouette of himself, wishing he really was as insubstantial as the shadows so that his insides might not feel so mangled. As he reached the front row, the tears he had been holding back threatened to flow once more. He had loved Rabastan and hadn't gotten a chance to tell him that. Now he was gone and a light had been extinguished forever in his heart.

Harry saw very clearly as he sat there under the hot sun how people who cared about him had stood in front of him one by one, his mother, his father, his godfather, and finally Rabastan, all of them determined to protect him. He would not let anybody else stand between him and death. He would not allow death to steal anyone else from him…anyone else…no…he only had one person left that he cared about…he wished he didn't but he couldn't stop. He had nothing left to lose but Voldemort and he would be damned if he ever let that happen. He wouldn't lose Voldemort…No matter what. That man might be immortal but disaster always found a playing field when it came to him and love…love seemed to draw sick twisted pleasure tearing at him. His grip tightened on his sword and he gritted his teeth. He was going to make death pay...he was going make it pay for every loved one it had taken from him. He was going to make it regret ever crossing him.

Voldemort appeared and a coffin materialized in front of him on the marble table. The coffin gleamed in the bright sunlight. It was expertly crafted and looked like it had been built with love to be the final resting place of one who had been so adored. It's faux-gold handles and polished sheen made it look all the more beautiful. Voldemort's back was straight but Harry could feel the grief he exuded and it broke his heart and made it all the more difficult for him to hold back his tears. He rose to his feet and came to stand beside the coffin. The lid had been removed and Harry looked down at the black silk cushioned interiors and the body that rested atop them.

Harry had to bite the inside of his cheek to hold back the cry that threatened to escape his lips. Rabastan…No…This wasn't Rabastan…This was just his body. He repeated that in his head over and over again as he took in Rabastan's pale cheeks, his sleeked back hair, his colourless lips and his closed eyes,

"You didn't let anyone else touch him, did you?"

Voldemort shook his head imperceptibly without taking his eyes away from the coffin and Harry nodded his approval. A death eater rushed forward and whispered something in Voldemort's ear. Voldemort tipped his head in acknowledgement and dismissed the death eater with a wave of his hand. He finally turned to face him and Harry saw straight through Voldemort's stoic expressions and impassive face to the sorrow that he held inside,

"Take a seat, Harry. The funeral service shall commence shortly."

Voldemort proceeded towards the seats and Harry stared at his back for a moment. Voldemort had barely acknowledged him and that didn't sit well with him one bit. Did Voldemort blame him for Rabastan's death too? Well, if anything, he should blame Voldemort for letting Bella live. If he had just killed her then they wouldn't be here. He was wrong of course. Nothing could have stopped the inevitable from happening. He was always meant to be devastated. Even if Voldemort had killed Bella…something else would have happened…Fate always conspired to ruin him and it would have found another way to take Rabastan away from him.

Harry took a seat beside Voldemort and a man in plain black robes got to his feet and stood now in front of Rabastan's coffin. Harry couldn't hear what he was saying. Odd words floated back to him. "Nobility of spirit" … "greatness of heart" … "Sacrifice" …" Loving brother…" Loyal Death Eater"

Harry replayed his memories of Rabastan in his head and stared up at the sky as tears prickled at the corner of his eyes. The words continued to drone on until the man said something about the beauty of death and Harry lost it… He lost it,

"Shut up."

The man stopped speaking and spoke,

"Pardon?"

Harry rose to his feet and shouted,

"Shut up…Shut up…SHUT UP!"

He stalked towards Rabastan's coffin and spoke in a low, deadly voice,

"Get lost."

The man eyed the sword in Harry's eyes and scurried away. Harry turned around and faced the gathering. He spotted Narcissa, Lucius, Draco and several familiar death eaters in the crowd. There was a large number of faces he didn't recognize. Voldemort was staring intently at him…his crimson eyes inquisitive. Harry looked away from him and spoke,

"Who are you mourning? Who exactly are you mourning?"

There was silence...utterly flawless silence…

"Just as I thought. You're mourning Rabastan…the loyal death eater…the perfect soldier…That was all that he was to you lot."

Harry drew in a silent breath and spoke,

"He didn't even want to be a bloody death eater. He didn't want to be one of you. No one asked him about what he aspired to be…No one gave him a damned choice. He was so beautiful…so utterly perfect inside but he spent his life quashing all his beauty and pretended to be someone ugly…someone he wasn't… just so he could fit in with you disgusting people. He was selfless and kind but he hid all that because it was considered weak. He was caring and so full of love but he smothered it all because of your bloody expectations. You killed him every day when he was alive…you locked him up in the coffin of your false beliefs and buried him underneath all your sick and twisted ideologies."

Harry's gaze scanned the faces in the crowd and he noticed tears in almost everyone's eyes… They deserved to cry so much more. Voldemort had visibly paled but he kept his face impassive. His eyes said it all though and Harry was so relieved that he was wearing the sunglasses. He laughed and was glad it sounded unnaturally cold and emotionless,

"I'm not going to give you all the blame though. I didn't treasure him as much as I should have. I guess a lifetime wouldn't have been enough to cherish him…to appreciate how gorgeous he was in mind, body and soul. He worshiped me when I should have worshiped him. Hell, the way he walked in to my life, I should have kissed the earth beneath his feet."

Harry paused and realized his hands were trembling. He forced his free hand into the pocket of his jeans and white knuckled the handle of the sword with his other. He looked straight at Voldemort and spoke,

"I don't blame you either. I loved him…I loved him and that's the reason he's gone. He would have been alive if I didn't. You could have killed Bella but something else would have happened…something else would have become the cause and I would have still lost Rabastan. Because everything that I love tends to get taken away from me…my parents…Sirius and now Rabastan…The man who was standing here a few moments ago was saying something about the beauty of death. Death is not beautiful… It is vicious and vile…evil and cruel…It is a bloody cunt…I saw death when it snatched Rabastan right out of my arms and I will never forget or forgive that moment. I will never forgive death…"

He turned around to face the coffin and pulled his hand out of his pocket to caress Rabastan's cold cheek,

"I hope you can hear me wherever you are. I love you, Rabi…I love you…I love you so much. You were the best, the finest, the one I could rely on no matter what. You filled me with your warmth when I felt so cold. You gave me a friend when I had no one. You gave me love when I didn't deserve it. You always were pure love and you still are. So, haunt me, love, always stay near. Stay in my heart every day that I live…stay with me and give me the strength I need, to do what I want to do… You gave your life to preserve mine…I will not let your sacrifice go in vain…I will never allow death to touch me."


	81. Chapter 81

Harry lost all concept of time as he stood in front of the black marble tomb that now encased Rabastan's body. He could almost hear Rabastan's voice in his ear saying,

"You've been suppressing your emotions, Harry."

Harry rested his forehead against the sun warmed marble and whispered,

"I don't have your shoulder to cry on anymore, Rabi... I don't have your arms to hold me…your voice to soothe me…. your lap to fall asleep in…your sweet kisses…your warmth..."

Someone cleared their throat behind him and Harry ground out without turning around,

"What the hell is it?"

Draco spoke,

"The Dark Lord requires your presence at Rodolphus Lestrange's funeral."

Harry gritted his teeth and bit out,

"Why the hell is he getting a proper funeral?"

Draco didn't reply. Harry straightened up and turned around to find Draco standing there with his gaze lowered and cowering in fear,

"What else did Voldemort say?"

Draco shook his head and murmured,

"Nothing else. He wished for me to escort you to the funeral site."

Harry looked around and realized that all the seats were vacant. They were all probably attending Rodolphus's funeral now…What he failed to understand was why Voldemort wanted him to attend the funeral. He had murdered him…beheaded him in the middle of a crowd and Voldemort wanted him to attend his bloody funeral. What bothered him even more was why Voldemort hadn't asked him to go the funeral himself?

"Fine. You can leave now and tell Voldemort that I'll be there."

Draco looked up and Harry saw a hint of sympathy in his grey eyes and he absolutely hated it. Harry glared at him,

"Go."

Draco nodded his head and disapparated. Harry turned back to the marble tomb and stared at it blankly for another few minutes while he allowed his memories of Rabastan to consume his mind. He was snapped out of his thoughts by Deus's irksome voice,

"Your speech was quite touching, Mon Ravissement."

Harry turned around and considered Deus, who was dressed in a black suit, his blonde hair glowed in the sun, his blue eyes were bluer and deeper than any ocean and a gentle smile was playing across his cherubic face. No one could tell that a demon inhabited that perfect body,

"I didn't know you were listening, Angel."

Deus's smile widened and he stepped closer,

"I wasn't just listening, I was watching as well. Lord Voldemort is much more handsome than I had originally imagined him to be. His pictures do not seem to do him justice…I believe he might prove to be a good lay…"

Those words charred Harry's innards like nothing else and before Harry knew it, he had dropped the sword and grabbed him by the lapels of his suit jacket,

"Don't even think about it!"

Deus raised an eyebrow and smirked,

"Why the hell not? He's handsome, he's single and he looks like he needs comforting. I consider myself to be the perfect candidate for him. My magics will provide him with the comfort he needs…he'll find solace in my skin…"

Harry tightened his hold on the lapels and gnashed out,

"Listen very closely because I'm only going to say it once…He's mine…HE. IS. MINE…So keep your filthy demon hands away from him and find someone else to use your bloody magics on."

Deus laughed and the sound grated on Harry's nerves,

"He's not yours…at least not yet… You need to claim him, Mon Ravissement."

Harry shoved Deus away,

"Just stay away from him…If you lay a finger on him, I'll devastate you."

Deus grabbed his chin and spoke,

"I utterly adore your self-confidence, Harry. It's makes you all the more precious."

Harry grabbed Deus's hand and pushed it away from his chin,

"Stay away from Voldemort, Deus."

Deus raised his hands and spoke,

"I'll stay away from him, Mon Ravissement, only if you keep my identity a secret."

It was Harry's turn to laugh,

"Right and why would I allow anyone to be fooled by your innocent looks?"

Deus made an offended face,

"I need constant nourishment to exist on this plane."

Harry smirked and crossed his arms over his chest,

"Constant nourishment? Don't tell me you gobble humans for breakfast, lunch and dinner?"

Deus heaved a long-suffering sigh and spoke,

"I am the demon of lust, Harry. What do you think I feed on?"

Harry tapped his chin with a finger and then spoke,

"Lust."

Deus grinned demonically,

"Exactly…I feed on the sexual desires of my victims…Now imagine knowing that you're in bed with a demon from hell…That wouldn't be too arousing now, would it?"

Harry cringed at the thought and snapped,

"I have no desire to imagine something so bloody disgusting but I understand what you mean and I won't reveal to anyone that you're a demon as long as you keep your distance from Voldemort."

Deus snapped his fingers and a dagger materialized in his hand. He made a deep cut on the palm of his hand and held it out. Harry stared at it for a moment and raised an eyebrow,

"This is just creepy as hell. Am I supposed to draw blood too? I mean a normal promise would do just fine."

Deus tsked and smiled softly,

"You are too naïve for this, Harry. I could fool you so easily if I weren't your guardian demon. The point is, you can't trust a demon's word. A deal made in blood stands for an eternity. It's called a blood pact and it is stronger than any binding contract on this plane or hell."

Harry stared at the blood flowing from the demon's palm and took the dagger from his hand to make a cut on his palm. He hissed at the sudden pain but watched with morbid fascination as the crimson liquid began to flow. Deus cooed and took his hand,

"I…Asmodeus…Demon of Lust…Vow to stay away from Lord Voldemort and grant him immunity from my magics…I vow to protect him from the hankerings and wicked intents of anyone who is not Harry James Potter…"

Harry met Deus's gaze and ran the words over and over in his head to ensure there weren't any loopholes. Hankerings and wicked intents…That would pretty much ensure that no one but him would be able to pursue Voldemort...There was a loophole there…What if Voldemort pursued someone else? When had he become so selfish? Well…he didn't care if he was being selfish…Voldemort was his and he would go to any heights to ensure that.

Deus smirked wickedly as if he'd read his thoughts and spoke softly,

"Lord Voldemort shall not feel any desire towards anyone who is not Harry James Potter."

Harry cursed himself internally but he really didn't feel any remorse at what he had just gotten done. And right on cue, the voice in his head woke up and sneered,

_Yeah, but what if you fail in your endeavours and end up dying? Can you imagine what will happen to Voldemort then, you dimwit?_

Harry gnashed his teeth. No, he would not fail…no matter what…This only gave him all the more incentive to try his hardest and succeed. He exhaled and spoke,

"I, Harry James Potter, vow to keep the true identity of Asmodeus, demon of lust, a secret from everyone else as long as he keeps his vows."

Deus squeezed his hand and shook it firmly,

"Non dominus signantes litteras nostras foedus cum sanguine. Sit durare in aeternum."

Harry could only stare as two strands of pure velvety darkness twisted around their hands, entwining them and binding them. Droplets of his and Deus's blood seeped out from their conjoined palms and fell like crimson crystals on the soft green grass. He felt a searing hot sensation run up his arm and spread through the rest of his body. It felt like he was burning up from the inside out. He had to bite his lip to hold back his cry. Finally, Deus released his hand and the burning sensation vanished along with the strands of darkness. Harry drew in a deep breath and looked down at his palm, expecting a deep cut but was mildly surprised to find it completely healed. What had he just done? Had he just damned Voldemort to desire him and him alone? Had he really been that insecure…that desperate? Deus patted him on the shoulder and murmured against his ear,

"Don't think too much about it, Mon Ravissement. I believe you have another funeral to attend."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation:
> 
> Non dominus signantes litteras nostras foedus cum sanguine. Sit durare in aeternum.
> 
> We, hereby seal our pact with blood. May it last forevermore


	82. Chapter 82

Harry observed Rodolphus's funeral service from the very last row…well he wasn't really observing the funeral service, he was observing Voldemort and contemplating whether or not he'd done the right thing by making that blood pact. Now that he thought about it, it had been a pretty stupid thing to do. Trusting Deus had been a stupid thing to do. Harry leaned back in his seat and stared up at the sky. He'd have to find a way to overpower Deus, just in case Deus ever tried to turn against him. Oh, he was sure that Deus would turn against him or try to overpower him and drag him to hell with him. It wasn't a matter of if, it was a matter of when and he needed to be prepared when that time came.

Deus sighed next to him and grumbled,

"This is so boring."

Harry kept his gaze on the sky and spoke,

"I don't recall asking you to come along."

Deus chuckled softly and whispered,

"Well, how else would you have introduced me to everyone?"

Harry scowled at the sky,

"Right…you want me to introduce you to Voldemort's inner circle."

Harry watched Deus nod his head from the corner of his eye and continued his incessant staring at the offensively blue sky. The handle of the sword felt warm between his fingers and he was forced to wonder by Deus had just gifted it to him. There must be a hidden motive behind it. He couldn't have done that out of the goodness of his heart…Harry wondered if demons had hearts…They probably didn't…The man at the front stopped droning indicating that the funeral service was almost at the end. He watched as everyone rose including Deus and Voldemort but he wasn't really bothered to stand up in the honour of someone he had killed. If he'd had his way, this funeral wouldn't even be taking place and Rodolphus should have been buried in an unmarked grave or tossed in a river in the middle of the night. Deus looked down at him and smirked,

"You're really hating this, aren't you?"

Harry glared at him and then looked away as the funeral service came to an end and the people started chattering and gossiping. He noticed Voldemort's crimson gaze search the crowd and finally zero in on him. Harry kept his expressions neutral and rose to his feet,

"Let's get this over with."

Deus laughed and fell in step with him as he made his way towards the front where Voldemort stood with Lucius, Draco, Nott, Avery and a couple of other high-ranking death eaters. Harry could feel the gazes follow him and Deus…mostly Deus…which he had expected. Deus had a solemn expression on his face and he was the perfect picture of sorrow. He saw the way Voldemort's crimson eyes smouldered with jealousy at the sight of Deus beside him and he couldn't help but inwardly rejoice. Voldemort raised a questioning eyebrow at him and Harry spoke,

"This is Deus Miller. He'll be working as my personal secretary since Bella is otherwise indisposed."

Voldemort nodded silently and Lucius sneered,

"It didn't take you long to replace Rabastan. Did he really mean that little to you?"

Harry white knuckled the handle of the sword and smirked,

"If you want to keep your head then you'd better keep that mouth shut and stay out of my business."

He watched as Narcissa grasped her husband's arm with one hand and wrapped her other one around Draco's shoulder. As is she could protect them. Nott gave Deus an appraising look and whistled,

"Can't really blame you for hiring him though, Potter. He's a sight for sore eyes."

Harry turned his attention to Deus who was blushing furiously. Merlin, if only they knew what a monster he was. Voldemort cleared his throat and spoke,

"Leave us."

They all bowed and began walking away. Harry spoke to Deus,

"Why don't you go and mingle with everyone? After all, you're going to be working with them at the ministry."

Deus nodded bashfully and walked away. Voldemort drew closer to him and gripped his shoulder,

"Take off those glasses, Harry."

Harry lifted his chin and spoke,

"No."

Voldemort heaved a sigh and spoke,

"Why must you be so stubborn?"

Harry put the sword down on a nearby chair and spoke,

"I thought you'd be used to it by now."

Voldemort stepped closer to him and Harry felt his grip tighten on his shoulders,

"How are you? Nicholai informed me that you had an emotional breakdown last night."

Harry was about to shrug away when Voldemort's grip on his shoulders turned bruising. So that's what Nicholai had told Voldemort. Harry yanked the sunglasses off and tossed them away,

"I'm fine…bloody perfect…Can you let me go now?"

Voldemort's hold only tightened and Harry held his gaze and brought a snippet of his memory of last night to the forefront of his mind and allowed Voldemort access to it. He watched as Voldemort's crimson eyes widened with horror and the way his mouth opened in a silent gasp. His grip slackened and Harry grasped the opportunity to take a step back but Voldemort instantly composed himself, grabbed him around the waist and held him fast,

"I am never letting you out of my sights again."

Voldemort's gaze was purely possessive, so was his hold and his tone. Harry couldn't help but revel in it,

"That's not even possible."

Voldemort leaned closer to him and Harry's breath hitched in his throat as his lips barely brushed over his,

"Watch me."

Harry resisted the urge to lean forward and take those lips but he snorted dismissively,

"The best you can do is chain me up just like Nicholai did."

Voldemort growled and the sound did something to him. He thrust his head forward, forehead barely touching Voldemort's. Voldemort's eyes flashed and Harry dropped his tone, making sure to hold Voldemort's gaze as he said,

"Tell me that memory didn't arouse you. Tell me that the sight of me chained and collared didn't turn you on. Tell me you didn't wish that it was you in that room instead of Nicholai."

Voldemort's gaze was all fire, setting Harry' skin to sweating.

"No, it did not."

Harry clicked his tongue and dropped his gaze to Voldemort's groin, covered by the black robes but he knew what was underneath,

"Such denial. You're obviously hard for me. Your body doesn't lie."

Harry sank his teeth into his bottom lip, arousal a living thing in his lower belly, getting hotter by the second. He dropped his attentions to Voldemort's lips and whispered,

"You're welcome to try, Lover. Chain me, collar me and then claim me but it won't bring you the satisfaction you want."

He wanted to push Voldemort beyond any boundary he'd set. Ruffle him. Disable his control. So, Harry touched his lips to Voldemort's chin. Voldemort's sharp inhale was music to Harry' ears. Gasoline to his fire. A waving red flag in front of the bull,

"But you won't, will you?"

He flicked his tongue out, licked Voldemort's chin. Harry' own breath stuttered for a moment there as Voldemort's taste swept along his taste buds,

"You'd prefer to make me beg for you…to gain some semblance of control because I break you, don't I? You've never been broken before but my name…my voice…my touch breaks you. Every. Time."

A strong hand wrapped around his neck so fast, Harry saw stars. He choked, forcing out a chuckle as he met Voldemort's dark gaze. Anger, yes. The blood thirst, too. But lust was also crowded in there, wild and uncontrollable. Voldemort wanted him.

Speaking was difficult with the vice like grip at his throat, but he forced it out,

"Did I hit a nerve? You know it's the truth."

Voldemort's head cocked, and a muscle throbbed in his jaw, but he didn't speak. He simply watched Harry while squeezing his throat. Harry coughed. That look in Voldemort's eyes was absolutely intoxicating. He twisted his mouth into a smile,

"Get on your knees for me, Lover. And, maybe…just maybe…I'll fulfill your wish and beg for you."

A smile crept up Voldemort's features. Genuine. Brightening his eyes for a second,

"Are you propositioning me, Harry?"

Harry winked,

"Consider it what you want."

Voldemort snorted and released him. He'd wanted Voldemort's hands on him. Wanted to watch him lose control the way he stole all his control,

"I shall contemplate it."


	83. Chapter 83

Harry pulled out his glasses from the pocket of his suit jacket and pulled them on. He picked up his sword from the chair and was about to walk away when Voldemort spoke,

"Did I say that you could leave?"

Harry cocked an eyebrow and spoke,

"I wasn't aware that I needed your permission. Besides, you nearly strangled me in front of your death eaters to re-establish your dominance over me and showed them how you still have me under your control."

Harry rubbed a hand over his neck as he ran his gaze around the crowd that was watching them avidly,

"I think you pretty much succeeded in that. They won't question your supremacy anymore and they'll go right back to thinking that I'm your slut."

Voldemort's mouth was set in a stern line and his voice was barely above a growl when he spoke,

"What did I tell you about using that word to describe yourself?"

Harry ran his sheathed sword over the grass and spoke casually,

"You said you'd punish me."

He looked up and found pure rage intermixed with something like fond exasperation on Voldemort's face. Talk about mixed signals,

"Yes, I did."

He looked back down as he traced invisible patterns on the grass with his sword and spoke,

"Punish me then."

Voldemort stepped closer to him and murmured,

"Pain does not affect you anymore, does it?"

Harry looked up and met Voldemort's gaze which was full of remorse and pity…pity…He absolutely hated it and bit out,

"No, it does not."

Voldemort cupped his cheek and stroked a spot underneath his ear,

"You have not mourned Rabastan's death yet."

Harry tipped his head back, away from Voldemort's touch but Voldemort's hand followed his movement and Harry gritted out,

"I was too busy getting tortured by a crazy vampire and then escaping the said vampire."

Voldemort gripped his forearm and Harry was instantly engulfed by the overwhelming sensation of side along apparition. He staggered and the sword dropped from his hand when Voldemort released him and coughed a couple of times before he regained his footing and took in his surroundings. His shattered heart broke into a million more shards when he saw where he was. Voldemort pushed him back on the bed and Harry fell. He turned over on his belly, pulled Rabastan's pillow close to himself and buried his face in it. His scent still lingered there and as Harry held the pillow close to his chest.

He bit his tongue, trying to hold the tears that threatened to leave his eyes.

But as Rabastan's scent overwhelmed his senses and wrapped around him like a protective blanket, he couldn't hold them back. First, one small crystal bead escaped from his right eye. He could feel the warmth, sliding down his cheek, and rolling off his chin. Then another. And another. Until his eyes flooded with them. The dam broke and his tears finally burst forth…uncontrollable and unstoppable…Sobs and whimpers escaped his lips and he didn't care if Voldemort heard them. He cried and cried, dimly aware of Voldemort's hand stroking his hair and rubbing his back. His cries weren't the only sound in the room though…Voldemort was crying too…Why couldn't they just have been happy for once? They'd been perfect…Him, Rabastan and Voldemort. They'd fitted so perfectly together. They'd been so happy that day and now…now it was all gone…all that happiness…all that love...everything felt so terribly cold. He felt so numb. He felt Voldemort's lips on his head and murmured into the pillow,

"We could have been happy."

Voldemort spoke softly,

"Yes, we could have been but happiness is not unattainable."

Harry held the pillow tight and Voldemort pressed another kiss to his head.

"Do you feel him?"

Voldemort's hand halted on his lower back and Harry heard him whisper into his hair,

"Yes, he is present here in between us… right where he belongs…"

Fresh tears streamed down his cheeks and were instantly soaked up by the pillow,

"I loved him…I loved him so much…I wish I had told him that…"

His fingers dug into the pillow and another broken sob escaped him,

"He already knew, Harry. He did not need your proclamation to know that you loved him. He loved you too."

Harry inhaled Rabastan's scent in deeper…inhaled until he was sure that it filled every cell of his body…until he was sure that Rabastan flowed in his blood,

"Did you love him?"

He felt Voldemort's breath stutter at the question and heard the pain his voice when he spoke,

"I loved him because you loved him."

That one statement hit him harder than anything and he screamed into the pillow. Voldemort wrapped an arm around his waist and kissed his nape,

"It shall be alright. Everything shall be alright, Harry."

Harry cried and breathed out,

"You suck at this."

Voldemort laughed softly and held him tighter,

"Bear it, Harry. This is the last time you shall ever need comforting."

Harry turned his head and asked,

"The last time?"

Voldemort's fingers brushed through his hair and he hummed softly,

"The last time. I shall not allow anything or anyone to hurt you ever again."

Harry craned his neck and looked at Voldemort,

"So, I suppose anyone or anything does not include you."

Voldemort removed his hand from his hair and traced the bruises over his neck,

"I am truly sorry for that. Sometimes you tend to get a little too infuriating."

Harry couldn't help but grin at that,

"So, you won't strangle me again?"

Voldemort shook his head. Harry pouted in mock disappointment,

"What if I were into breath play?"

Lust flared up in Voldemort's crimson eyes, bright and absolutely beautiful. He smirked and pressed his thumb over his Adam's apple and Harry's breath instantly hitched in this throat as heat coiled in his stomach,

"I would make an exception in that case."


	84. Chapter 84

Harry leaned back against the bar and took another sip of his drink as he watched Deus hunt for his next prey…hunt…that was the perfect word to describe what he did. He winked at the two death eaters who were watching him…Voldemort had insisted that he wasn't allowed to go anywhere alone. He swirled the colourless liquid in his glass and thought about the last week. Everything had returned to normal…He'd started going back to the ministry and Voldemort and him had settled back into peaceful co-existence. No one noticed that Rabastan was gone…no one thought about him…no one mentioned him and here he was…he saw Rabastan in every face he saw…his voice echoed inside his head all the time and his memories just wouldn't stop playing in his mind…. there was an insistent ache in his chest that never left…He took another sip of his drink and grimaced. He remembered how special it had tasted that day with Rabastan. Now, it was tasteless, flavourless…utterly bland…just like everything else…

It seemed Deus had found his victim. The guy currently groping him and leering at him looked like he was going to devour him. Harry pitied the guy because in the end, he was going to be the one getting devoured. Deus was blushing coyly as the man slid a hand underneath his shirt. He looked away and took another sip of his drink. He still hadn't paid a visit to Bella and Nicholai…Maybe tonight…He downed his drink in one and turned around to snap his fingers at the bartender. His glass was refilled almost immediately and he took another sip. He coughed again and again…It had been getting worse over the past week.

He put his glass down and rose to his feet. He made it to the bathroom and was relieved that the two death eaters didn't follow him and that the bathroom was vacant. He locked it up, dropped the sword and coughed again with sudden and unexpected force. He leaned down over the sink and coughed over and over again until the white marble of the sink was stained with his blood. There was no end in sight and it only got worse, and he gulped down a few cupped handfuls of water to settle it enough to let him breathe.

Harry gripped the edge of the sink, but it did nothing to save him from collapsing, or hitting his head on the way down. His ears were ringing too loudly. He tried to stop coughing but it was next to impossible and each cough brought his head closer to splitting open and his body one step closer to breaking down. Dark spots danced at the edges of his vision and he would have cursed if he could have. He wasn't going to die…No…Not now…Not ever. Another coughing fit seized him and this one sent a searing pain into his diaphragm and stomach. It felt like his insides were burning up with pain and bleeding out. Savage fiery bursts of pain pulsated through his chest and stomach, intensifying with each cough, jarring and brutal. Every time he coughed the pain amplified, his body quivered, his consciousness ebbed. Black mists swirled at the edges of his mind drawing him into sweet oblivion. He curled up as tight as he could on the tiled floor and tried to fight the darkness that was slowly engulfing him. He couldn't pass out…not here...But he knew he was fighting a losing battle and soon enough he was completely consumed by it.

* * *

Screams…They reverberated around the hall as he looked down at the source of them… the two bodies writhing on the floor at his feet…

"WHERE THE HELL IS HE?"

He cancelled the curse with a flick of his wand and leaned down over them,

"Where is he? Where is Harry?"

One of them…Travis… raised his head and rasped out,

"He went to the restrooms and…"

He rested his foot on the small of his back and spoke,

"And?"

The man cried out as he pushed his foot down,

"He wasn't there when we went to check up on him."

He kicked him hard and put them both under the cruciatus as he paced the hall. He could see his death eaters cowering in fear as he walked past them. Where had he disappeared to? Had he been kidnapped again? No…No…His heart lurched at that possibility. He turned around and cancelled the curse once again,

"Was Deus Miller present with him?"

That bloody musical voice he hated so much spoke up in a soft, timid manner,

"I…I was there, Sir, but I didn't accompany him to the restrooms."

He looked around at that damned cherubic face and those blue eyes brimming with tears. He had asked Harry about him three days ago and Harry had told him that Deus had worked as a bartender at that gay club in Knockturn Alley. Harry's story had turned out to be true because he had carried out a very thorough background check on him. He shook away those thoughts and stepped closer to him. Deus practically cowered and stuttered,

"I…I…d…don't know where he went…"

He gripped his chin and looked into the depths of those blue irises. What he saw confirmed his claims and he released him. Lucius spoke in a low voice,

"My Lord, he may have apparated."

He spun on the spot and was holding Lucius's face in a tight grip,

"Do you consider me a fool, Lucius. He did not have a wand."

Lucius bowed his head and murmured,

"Forgive me, My Lord."

He released his face and addressed all his death eaters,

"I want him found and I want him here before dawn. Is that understood?"

He watched as everyone bowed and disappeared. He disapparated and appeared in Rabastan's home. The sheets were ruffled and Harry's clothes were strewn all across the room. He picked up the discarded shirt and breathed in Harry's familiar scent. He sat down on the bed and fisted the shirt. Harry wasn't fine. Wherever he was, he wasn't fine. A thousand images of Harry bound, chained, tortured crossed his mind and his heart cried tears of blood. He shouldn't have let him go…But Harry was so damn convincing when he wanted to be…Well, he should have gone with him. He should have stayed with him. He shouldn't have trusted his incompetent death eaters with something as important as Harry's safety. He should have known that something like this would happen. Maybe it was time he paid Dumbledore a visit. But what if Dumbledore didn't have Harry?

He looked around the room and closed his eyes. Harry usually spent his days at the ministry and his nights here. He ran his hands over the sheets. He only came here when Harry was asleep. There was something magical about Harry when he slept. All his defences were down and there was none of that cold demeanour that Harry wore when he was awake. His expressions were unguarded and he saw a glimpse of that old, innocent Harry. He had to find him. He had to find Harry.

"Tom, my boy. I cannot say that I was pleased to see your message."

His name grated on his nerves and he crossed his arms over his chest and watched as Dumbledore took a step closer to him,

"Do you have him?"

Dumbledore arched a silver eyebrow but his blue eyes twinkled with understanding,

"Him? You must be more precise than that."

He breathed in the cool night air and spoke,

"Harry. Do you have him?"

Dumbledore laughed softly and spoke,

"Has he finally managed to escape from you as well?"

He didn't want to go there…but what if Dumbledore was right. Harry had always talked about leaving. What if he'd really left? According to Travis, there hadn't been any signs of a struggle. If someone had attempted to kidnap Harry, then he would have most probably raised hell with his sword…He wouldn't have given in quietly. And if Harry had truly been subdued and kidnapped then his sword would have been left behind because no one could touch it except him. Dumbledore spoke again,

"Judging from your face, he has, hasn't he?"

He just couldn't bear being around Dumbledore anymore. He disapparated without a word and appeared outside the gay club. It had been closed off by the death eaters after Harry's disappearance and in the blink of an eye, he was standing in the restroom, trying to figure out how Harry could have just vanished. There were no windows and the only entrance and exit was that one door he had just walked in through. Almost everyone had seen Harry go in. No one had seen him come out. There had to be something…some clue… Magic always left traces. He waved his wand and waited for them to show but aside from some insignificant smudges, there was nothing. It was apparent that Harry or his supposed kidnapper hadn't apparated. That would have left a huge trace. The possibility that Harry might have left on his own was growing stronger by a minute but even though all evidence pointed to it, it didn't settle well with him. Harry hadn't left willingly and he wasn't fine.

Who else could have taken Harry? According to Harry, Bella and Nicholai were locked away somewhere. And apart from them and Dumbledore, he had no visible adversaries. He walked out of the restrooms and paced the club as his mind once again forced him to consider the possibility that Harry had left. That couldn't really be possible…Maybe he was just thinking that because he was blindfolded by everything he felt for Harry. But Harry had genuinely started warming up to him over the course of the past week. He had felt Harry's affection, seen a softer and warmer side of him. It had been beautiful and it had felt real…seemed real…Harry couldn't have been faking it. A death eater made his way towards him and bowed his head,

"Any sign of him?"

The death eater shook his head timidly and murmured reverently,

"Not yet, My Lord."

He dismissed him with an impatient wave of his hand as he felt his heart sink. He had no idea where Harry was and no possible way to track him. He had no idea how he was and whether or not he was still alive…He buried his face in his hands as his stomach twisted into knots and it felt like the world tilted on its axis. Where the hell had that thought come from? No…Harry couldn't be dead…He just couldn't be dead…He had been driven to suicide after his Godfather's death. What if? No…No…Harry just couldn't commit suicide. Fear devoured him and devastated him and it became all the more imperative to find Harry as soon as possible.


	85. Chapter 85

Harry opened his eyes and the first thing he registered was the sound of beeping…odd…He struggled to lift his eyelids but they felt like they'd been made of lead. Thinking that he'd better luck with lifting his arm, he tried to move it and almost cried out as a sharp stabbing pain originated from it. What was going on? Where was he? He moved his other hand up to his face and gasped as it brushed over the plastic mask over his mouth and nose…it didn't take him long to figure out where he was. Had his condition really worsened to the point to that he couldn't even breathe on his own? The last thing he remembered was passing out in the bathroom. Who had brought him here? He was about to yank it off when Deus's soft melodic voice reached him,

"Don't bother, Mon Ravissement."

Harry cursed internally and his eyes flew open. It didn't take him long to take in his bland, colorless surroundings. The walls were plain white, the sheets over him were plain white, the gown he was wearing was plain white, the curtains that covered the window were plain white, the two plastic chairs against the wall were plain white. He had never hated white so much. Deus was the only colourful object in the room. He was still dressed in the black slacks and the loose salmon colored linen button up, he'd been wearing at the club. There was a smug smile on his lips and his eyes were alight with mischief. That definitely didn't bode well for him. How long had he been out? Why did his head feel so heavy? He remembered hitting it when he had collapsed. He looked down at his arm and noticed that he was hooked up to all the machines and the IV. Deus drew closer to him and brushed his hair away from his forehead. Harry cringed at the contact and was about to turn his head when he spoke,

"Relax."

He didn't…couldn't…Deus laughed coldly as he pulled the chair closer to the bed. Harry closed his eyes hoping that Deus would take the hint and leave him alone,

"Do you remember the last time you were in a hospital?"

His eyes flew open and he succeeded in pulling away the mask from his face,

"It was you…"

The way Deus laughed chilled him to the bone and was admission enough. He remembered that day very clearly. He'd managed to slash his wrist and was watching himself bleed, calmly waiting for death to claim him and then he'd blinked and the next thing he knew he was on a hospital bed and a doctor was tending to his wrist. He'd been drifting in and out of consciousness then but he distinctly remembered seeing Sirius there. He'd thought that he'd been saved by Sirius then and later he had chalked it up to being a hallucination. It hadn't been though. It hadn't been a hallucination. It had been Deus all along. He coughed and his lungs burned up. Deus pushed the mask back over his mouth and nose,

"Breathe, Harry."

He closed his eyes and focused on breathing. That visit to the hospital had been when he'd coughed up blood for the first time. All manners of tests and scans had been carried out on him and his reports and the news had been delivered to him by a grim-faced doctor. He'd left the hospital in the middle of the night and returned to the Dursleys. Funnily enough, they hadn't even noticed that he had been gone for almost a week. But it made sense now…Nicholai had proven that he could manipulate time when he'd bitten him in the middle of the crowd…If Nicholai could do something like that then so could Deus. Harry pushed away the mask again and asked,

"Why'd you save me?"

Deus pursed his lips and leaned back in the chair,

"Why'd I save you? For my entertainment, of course. Didn't I mention that you're an absolute delight to watch?"

It was taking him all his conscious effort to keep his breathing stable. Deus patted him on the cheek and continued,

"I couldn't let you end yourself. Allowing you to bleed out would have been like ending the show before it even started."

Harry held Deus's gaze and rasped out,

"You knew about my…you knew even before I did…"

Deus grinned from ear to ear and winked,

"I told you I was bored out of my mind. You fascinated me. The fact that you, The Boy who Lived, the only person to ever survive the killing curse, were slowly wasting away excited me. And then you went and attempted suicide, so naturally, I had to save you in order for the show to go on."

Harry looked away from Deus and stared at the wall. His breathing felt stable now and his lungs weren't burning up. The pain in his head, chest, stomach and back remained though and it felt bloody difficult to move. Deus wanted a show, he would give him a show. He had no intentions of dying so Deus would have just have to suck it up and return to hell alone. His breath stuttered as he opened his mouth to speak but he forced the words out,

"Why'd you bring me here?"

He turned back to face Deus and saw him smirking,

"Would you have preferred to be found unconscious on that bathroom floor?"

Harry coughed again and fisted the sheets as the pain in his chest sharpened. Deus forced the oxygen mask back over his mouth and nose and snapped angrily,

"Stop being so bloody stubborn and breathe."

He did and released the sheets as his breathing grew regular again. He hated this. When was this going to be over?

"You do want to get back on your feet again, don't you?"

Harry nodded his head disdainfully and glared up at the ceiling,

"Haven't you wondered how you came to acquire this ailment?"

Harry closed his eyes. He had only started wondering about it over the past one week when he had been researching demons and means to gain immortality. Before that he hadn't really cared about it. His train of thought broke as the door opened and he opened his eyes just in time to see the doctor walk in with a face that looked like a brick. His movements were all sharp and with purpose, he analysed the chart for a few seconds and looked up with a perfunctory smile flashed for just a moment. Behind the gun-metal spectacles his eyes were as grey as thunderclouds and the lines around his mouth gave no indication that he ever lost himself in laughter. Harry wondered if he had always been this grim or if his profession had made him this way. He doubted it, His voice was baritone and rolling when he spoke,

"Mr. Miller would you leave us alone for a second?"

Deus rose to his feet and left. The doctor's gaze softened as he turned it on him and Harry saw how his expression turned more stoic and severe,

"There are some things that we must discuss, Mr. Potter. I believe you might be aware of most of them but as a doctor it is my responsibility to bring them to your knowledge."

Harry turned his gaze away from him and stared at the white wall. He had received this lecture before. He was in no mood to receive it again. He desperately wished he had some cotton to plug up his ears.


	86. Chapter 86

He closed his eyes and listened to the doctor yap on about terminal illness, chemotherapy, radiation, about all the wonderful things that they could do so that he wouldn't have to feel the pain and suffering. He wasn't the least bit interested in that. He intended to live so this was all meaningless. When he got tired of listening, he pulled the mask away from his face and spoke,

"Are you quite done with your speech?"

Those grey eyes widened as Harry tested out his breathing. It felt better…not as strenuous as before. The doctor was gaping at him, utterly baffled so Harry decided to put him out of his misery and spoke,

"Yes, I know that I have stage four metastatic pancreatic cancer. Yes, I know what metastatic means and, yes, I know that I don't have long to live. And, No, I am not afraid of pain and death."

The doctor sat down and went through the file in his lap,

"Mr. Potter, surely your family must be devastated…you must feel something…"

Harry looked away from him and stared up at the ceiling,

"Do you want me to wail and scream like other people do when they hear they're going to die? Or do you want me to be shocked and deny it all? Or maybe you'd prefer me to be angry about it. Which emotion would you like to see, Doc?"

Harry closed his eyes and sighed,

"You know when they told me about it the first time, they were as baffled as you are because I so readily accepted it."

The doctor rose to his feet and spoke,

"So, are you willing to undergo chemotherapy then?"

Harry laughed at that,

"No, thanks."

The doctor leaned over him and asked,

"Why not?"

Harry bit back another chuckle and spoke,

"It won't allow me to live now, will it? I have no interest in looking and feeling like I'm dead before I actually am. I'm leaving this hospital as soon as I can get back on my feet."

The doctor pursed his lips and was about to speak when Harry spoke first,

"I did my fair share of research. There are drugs that can help me with my symptoms and delay my imminent death. Can you prescribe them to me?"

This was another thing he'd been researching for the past one week. The drugs were the only thing that had appealed to him. Originally, he'd planned to get them the illegal way but now that he was here, he might as well get them the legal way. The doctor looked conflicted,

"I'm not sure that they'll complement you. I'll have to run some trials before I can prescribe them to you."

Harry opened his eyes and met the doctor's gaze,

"No, I'm not going through trials. I want the drugs, I'm sure they'll work for me."

The doctor looked like he was about to refuse so Harry added,

"I have the complete right to choose my treatment plan and you can't deny me that."

The doctor nodded curtly before picking up the file and leaving. Soon after, Deus returned to the room and leaned against the wall,

"He didn't look too pleased."

Harry ran his fingers through his hair and spoke,

"I wasn't the kind of patient he was expecting."

Deus smirked and crossed his arms over his chest,

"Did you refuse treatment?"

He nodded silently. He couldn't let Deus know about the drugs…but maybe that bastard already knew. He knew everything,

"I asked you a question before the doctor interrupted us."

Harry looked at him. Damn, he hated that face, hated that smirk, hated everything about Deus,

"I've thought about it. Wizards are supposed to be immune to muggle diseases. In fact, they're even supposed to be able to heal them. I think that's the reason it's never showed up on the diagnostic charms. You said it was ironic and I completely agree. I survived the killing curse which no wizard has ever survived and ended up with cancer that can't be healed. Judging by that smirk on your face, I can tell that you have a theory."

Deus's smirk widened and he stepped closer to him,

"I think Dumbledore repressed your magical core to the point of damaging it and in doing so he shattered your immunity to muggle diseases."

Dumbledore… That bastard had ruined his life and although Deus's theory made some sense, there were loopholes,

"My magical core isn't damaged and besides that doesn't explain why my cancer can't be healed."

Deus chuckled and spoke,

"When was the last time you cast a spell?"

Harry frowned at the ceiling and spoke,

"That night I was attacked by death eaters."

Deus sat down in the chair and asked,

"What was the last spell you cast?"

Harry remembered it had been the killing curse. He'd cast it at Bella but it hadn't worked even though he'd desperately wanted to kill her. Suddenly Deus's theory was beginning to make a lot of sense and that terrified him. What if he hadn't been able to cast the curse because he had lacked the magical ability required to cast it? What if he was never able to perform magic? Deus must have read the horror on his face because he chuckled,

"I'm not saying that you can't perform magic anymore, Harry."

Harry gritted his teeth,

"I can perform magic. My magic helped me escape when Voldemort had had me tied to the bed."

Deus had a sad smile on his face and Harry cursed verbally as he realized that that hadn't been his magic. It had been Deus. Harry closed his eyes as his breathing got out of control again…more rapid…more erratic. He coughed once, twice, thrice before Deus had replaced the mask over his mouth and nose,

"Calm down, Harry!"

Harry refused to calm down. This wasn't something he could just ignore. What was the point of gaining immortality if he couldn't perform magic. His heart was racing in his chest and he couldn't control it. The thoughts were accelerating inside his head. He wanted them to slow so he could breathe but they wouldn't. He struggled to make his mind slow down so that his brain and his body could cope. He felt so sick. His heart was hammering inside his chest like it belonged to a rabbit running for its skin. Everything inside him ached like hell. It was like an invisible hand was clasped over his mouth; an equally ghostly shot of adrenaline pierced his heart, unloading in an instant. He felt as his ribs heaved as if bound by ropes, straining to inflate his lungs. His head was a carousel of fears spinning out of control, each one pushing his mind into blackness. Sounds that were near feel far away, like he was no longer in the body that lay on those starched sheets. Blackness... creeping blackness...lingered at the edges of his visions…somewhere far away Deus was shouting and then it wasn't just Deus...someone else was shouting as well,

"He's fading fast…"


	87. Chapter 87

He had seen darkness before but this wasn't anything like that. This was the darkness that robbed him of his senses and replaced them with a paralysing fear. In this darkness he sat, muscles cramped and unable to move. He only knew his eyes were still there because he could feel himself blink, still instinctively moisturizing the organs he had no current use for. He couldn't hear anything either. He guessed that he should bring his heart rate down below the level of "rabbit in a snare" but he couldn't. It took him a minute to realize that the darkness was thickening, growing heavier.

He felt like he was drowning and there was no hope of being saved. The blackness of his memories started to spread through his mind, clouding his thoughts and taking him back to places he never wanted to revisit. He pressed his palms to his ears trying to block out the voices, but it doesn't work. They only grow louder and louder. He just wanted them to go away. Was that too much to ask for? Just when he thought all hope was lost he heard his voice calling his name. It was like a ray of light in that thick, syrupy darkness. He felt him take his hands in his, pulling him into his arms like a child. The memories died down and he told him that everything was alright that it was all just a distant memory. He rested his head on his chest. Rabastan was his anchor, and gave him the hope when the darkness fought to overpower him,

"Rabi…"

Rabastan tightened his hold on him and pressed a kiss to his temple,

"Am I dead?"

Rabastan chuckled softly and the sound made his heart soar,

"No, Harry. Not yet."

Harry took a deep breath and inhaled Rabastan's scent greedily,

"Then what's going on?"

Rabastan's warmth seeped into his skin and he relished it,

"You stopped fighting so your mind conjured me up to give you the courage."

Harry frowned and fisted Rabastan's robes,

"So, you're a figment of my imagination then?"

Rabastan nodded and pressed a kiss to his neck,

"I'm more than a figment of your imagination. I'm a piece of your heart. I am a part of your soul."

Harry couldn't help but hold him tighter and cry out,

"Don't leave me again, Rabi."

Rabastan laughed and moved his fingers through his hair,

"Didn't you hear what I just said? I'm a part of you…I won't leave you as long as you're alive."

Rabastan's fingers trailed over his back and Harry spoke as tears streamed down his cheeks and Rabastan's robes soaked them up,

"I love you… I love you, Rabi."

Harry let his hand slide to the back of Rabastan's neck, run through the soft hair at the base of his head. When he did, Rabastan leaned forward. His lips pressed softly to his. It was a tentative kiss, and as much as Harry wanted to take over, as much as he wanted to push his tongue into Rabastan's mouth and let him see how hungry he was for him, he held off, let Rabastan work himself into it, which he slowly did. It took a moment for him to really loosen up, for his lips to go pliant. And then Rabastan was kissing him harder, deeper. His tongue took over his mouth, and it was sweet and gentle and everything that Harry had missed about Rabastan only somehow it was even more powerful…more intense. The thought made Harry mentally stumble because here he was, feeling things and thinking things he never expected to feel or think again. Rabastan pulled away and whispered in his ear,

"I know. I love you too."

Harry didn't let go…couldn't let go. He felt the need to keep a tight hold on Rabastan because he felt that like water, he was going to slip through his fingers and flow away. He buried his face in the crook of Rabastan's neck and Rabastan ran his fingers over his back,

"Why'd you stop fighting, Harry? You're the most stubborn, most defiant person I have ever met. Harry, I've always told you that I've admired your courage. Seeing you surrendering like this breaks my heart."

Harry kept his face buried in Rabastan's neck and whispered,

"I think I've lost my magic."

Voicing the thought made it all the more real and all the more horrifying. Rabastan kissed the top of his head and asked,

"Is that why you lost your will to live all of a sudden?"

Harry nodded his head,

"Yes, I can't imagine a life without magic. It was the best thing about my life and now it's gone…I can't live like a squib…"

Rabastan was silent for a moment and then he murmured against his hair,

"You think you've lost your magic. You don't even know that for sure yet. Secondly, even if you have lost it, you never needed magic to be intimidating. You haven't cast a single spell in the past two months but everyone at the ministry is still daunted by you and Voldemort is undeniably attracted to you. Which reminds me…You do have another reason to live. I believe you are forgetting the blood pact you made. Would you really doom Voldemort to live without you when you cursed him to be drawn to you and only you?"

Harry cried out on Rabastan's shoulder,

"Voldemort won't feel attracted to me when he realizes that I'm a squib. Besides, if I don't have my magic then I can't gain immortality so I'll probably die in a few days even if I fight to survive today."

Rabastan sighed and stroked his hair,

"You are not a squib, Harry. There is so much to live for. You just asked me not to leave you again and I told you that I'm a part of your being. If you die then I'll die with you again. Will you really throw my sacrifice away? Will you really let death have its way with you?"

Harry just focused on breathing Rabastan in and soaking in his warmth. When he didn't reply, Rabastan pleaded,

"Please don't stop fighting…Please, Harry. You have to fight for my sake, for Voldemort's sake, for your own sake."

Harry pulled away from Rabastan and rested a finger on his lips, effectively silencing him,

"Don't plead, Rabi. I'll live…I'll fight…I'll avenge you. Magic or no magic, I will live. Death will kneel before me."

Rabastan smiled softly and pulled him into a tight embrace,

"I'm always here for you."

Harry rested his head on his shoulder and whispered,

"Stay with me forever, Rabi."

He felt Rabastan turn to vapour in his arms and the darkness returned once again but Rabastan's voice reverberated through it,

"I will, Harry."

Harry smiled and realized that the darkness didn't bother him anymore. It didn't suffocate him anymore. He rose to his feet and there it was. Death standing right in front of him. Its black wings folded around him, its glowing eyes illuminating the dark. He stepped closer to him and death stood still,

"Here to take me?"

Death stood silent and that frustrated him,

"Well, just go away because you're not needed yet…in fact, I'll never be needing you."

The shadow laughed and Harry fought to hold his ground,

"You are a fool to think that you stand a chance against me."

Harry crossed his arms over his chest. Rabastan's warmth and scent clung to him, filling him up with reckless courage and confidence,

"I was a fool when I considered surrendering to you. Right now, I'm as sane as I'll ever be."

The shadow swept closer to him and Harry waggled his finger at him,

"If you think that you can take me as easily as you took Rabastan then you've got another thing coming."

Harry saw the way, the shadow's eyes glowed brighter and the way it flexed its wings and spread them. He took another step closer and without warning, plucked a long black feather from them. The shadow flinched away from him and Harry chuckled darkly as he admired the feather in his hand,

"Mark my words, I will make you bow before me."

He turned his back to the shadow and had taken a few steps forward when he shot over his back,

"Oh, and by the way, I'm keeping this."

The darkness scrambled away from him as he approached, giving way to light. He stroked the feather with his thumb and made his way back into the light with renewed resolve.


	88. Chapter 88

He opened his eyes and wasn't the least bit surprised to find the grey eyed doctor standing over him.

"You coded twice, Mr. Potter. I believe you're quite the fighter."

Harry would have laughed if he didn't have the oxygen mask over his face. He listened to the doctor talk about how it was nothing more than a miracle that he had survived. His lips tingled as he remembered Rabastan's kiss. The doctor stopped talking and patted him on the shoulder before leaving. He opened his eyes and slipped his hand under the pillow. His fingers brushed the soft feather and he smirked. Deus walked in and Harry wanted to groan,

"I was so sure you were going to die, Mon Ravissement."

Harry nuzzled his head into the pillow and closed his eyes. Deus sat down beside him. He was sure, Deus was more than pleased that he had survived. His survival meant more entertainment for him.

"The doctors told me that you fought like hell."

What had Deus said about him? The perfect model of defiance in the face of adversity. Yeah, that was right. Hadn't Rabastan said the same? Hadn't Rabastan admired that about him as well,

"They say that they'll be able to get you started on the drugs tonight."

Harry ran his fingers over the crisp, rough sheets and waited for Deus to continue,

"If you react well to the pills, you'll be back on your feet in less than twenty-four hours."

Harry nodded his silently to acknowledge that he was listening,

"You know, Voldemort has been searching for you like crazy. He isn't taking your disappearance well."

He opened his eyes and saw a thoughtful expression on Deus's face. Deus held his gaze and spoke,

"You've been here for more than two days now and he's been wilting away in your absence."

Wilting away. Panic choked him. Damn it, no…no…If it was anything like what Deus made it sound like then this was all his fault. He shouldn't have made that blood pact. He was about to pull away the mask when Deus stopped him,

"No, Harry."

He glared at Deus and focused all his resentment at him. Deus didn't even blink,

"I did not force you to make the blood pact, did I? You had a choice."

Deus was right. This was all his fault and he urged Deus to tell him more. Deus conjured a wanted poster and Harry glared at it,

"You're wanted once more."

Harry was glad that Voldemort had used a better picture of him this time. Deus vanished the poster and spoke,

"From what I've observed, he hasn't been eating or sleeping and he has certainly weakened. He doesn't show it but the death eaters are starting to notice and beginning to question his behaviour."

Harry fisted the sheets and yanked off the mask,

"I want to break the blood pact."

Deus laughed like he had said something absurd,

"You can't break it. I told you it'll last an eternity."

Harry glowered at him and Deus's expression grew serious,

"There has to be way."

Deus shook his head and he almost looked apologetic,

"There isn't."

Harry sat up straight despite Deus's protests and pressed the bell. A nurse instantly rushed in and a look of horror crossed her face as she saw him sitting up,

"Mr. Potter, You must rest."

Harry ground his teeth. To hell with rest. He was fine,

"I want to see the oncologist that has been assigned to me."

The nurse looked like she wanted to say something but then Deus spoke,

"Go and get him. I'll take care of him."

The nurse hurried away and Harry focused on ripping the IV and other attachments off his arm. He was angry at himself…in fact, scratch that, he was utterly furious. How the hell had he been so stupid? Deus looked like he was dying to say something but biting his tongue. That irritated him further and he spoke,

"What the hell is it?"

Deus leaned forward in his seat and entwined his fingers,

"You really love him, don't you?"

Harry wiped the blood from his arm with the spotless white sheets and coughed. There wasn't any doubt about the fact that he loved Voldemort. He'd thought that their attraction was mostly skin deep but it wasn't…at least for him, it was more than just lust. The doctor rushed in and exclaimed,

"What on earth are you doing, Mr. Potter?"

Harry swung his legs off the bed and quickly became aware of his bare back and swore never to wear a hospital gown ever again. The doctor must have seen the scars on his back because he looked utterly horrified,

"Leaving. I want the pills."

The doctor sighed and sat down beside him on the bed,

"What happened to your back?"

Harry closed his eyes and bit out,

"That is none of your concern."

For a minute, there was silence then finally the doctor spoke,

"I cannot stop you from leaving but I can't prescribe you the pills without a trial."

Harry coughed and covered his hand with his mouth. His lungs burned but ignoring that he narrowed his gaze at the doctor and spoke,

"Fine, I don't need them. Get out. I need to get changed."

The doctor rose to his feet and walked out of the room,

"Clothes, Deus."

Deus snapped his fingers and a pair of black skin-tight jeans, along with a black V neck shirt and a black leather jacket appeared. He signalled Deus to leave and when was gone, he went to the bathroom and finally took in his reflection in the mirror. His skin was the pale to the point of being nearly transparent. He coughed and bent over the sink as his insides ached like hell. He splashed water over his face, ran his fingers through his tousled hair and exited the bathroom. It didn't take him long to get dressed. He sat down at the edge of the bed and pulled out the long black feather from underneath his pillow. He wasn't sure where he was going to fit it. He was certain that it wouldn't fit in the pocket of his jacket. So, he tucked it in the waist of his jeans and suppressed a giggle when the feather tickled his side. He was in the process of lacing up his doc martens when the door opened and the doctor walked in.

He finished lacing up his boots and rose to his feet. He didn't know what he was expecting but it wasn't being pulled into a hug by the doctor. It should have felt creepy and odd but it didn't. He felt the doctor slip something in the pocket of his jacket and felt him pat his back before he turned and left silently. Harry knew what the doctor had put in his pocket and he couldn't help but smile. Deus walked in and caught the smile on his lips,

"What happened?"

Harry shook his head and spoke,

"Let's go."

It wasn't long before he was walking through the main gate and making his way over the gravelly path towards Malfoy Manor. Deus had handed him his sword outside the main gates and refused to accompany him because he didn't want to blow his disguise. The huge oak main doors opened for him and he stepped in. It didn't take long for him to figure out that all the inhabitants of the Manor along with Voldemort were gathered in the dining hall for breakfast. He felt a tiny bit nervous as he stepped through the door of the dining hall. In the flash of an eye, he had about a dozen wands pointed at him, which didn't unnerve him one bit.

Ignoring them, he strode towards Voldemort, who really did look weak. His cheeks were pale and his crimson eyes looked sleep deprived. There were dark circles under his eyes and his lips looked bloodless. This was all his fault. He covered his mouth with his hand and coughed. He stepped closer to Voldemort and expected Voldemort to rise to his feet but he didn't. Deus had said that the death eaters had been questioning his authority. Holding Voldemort's crimson gaze, he dropped down on his knees in front of him and watched the way his eyes widened with disbelief. He heard the death eaters snigger and jeer at him in the background but he was certain that one swipe of his sword would be enough to shut them up. Right now, no one else mattered but Voldemort. He bent down and was about to kiss Voldemort's shoe when Voldemort pulled it back. Harry put down the sword and grabbed his ankle before brushing his lips over his shoes one by one. He looked up and felt extremely gratified by the look of utter shock on Voldemort's face,

"Miss me, Lover?"


	89. Chapter 89

Harry picked up the sword and rose to his feet. He gave Voldemort's empty plate a pointed stare and asked,

"You haven't been eating?"

Voldemort was still regarding him like he wasn't real. He snapped his fingers in front of his face and Voldemort blinked and then his crimson gaze focused on him

"I asked you something."

Voldemort looked away from him and Harry held his chin and made him face him,

"I'm really here, Lover."

Harry's chest tightened when instead of meeting his gaze, Voldemort closed his eyes. He released his chin and took a few steps back,

"Fine, if you don't want me here then I'll leave."

He had just turned to leave when he felt Voldemort grip his wrist,

"I am never letting you leave again even if it means chaining you up."

The hoarseness of his voice filled Harry's heart with so much pain. He turned around and leaned over Voldemort,

"You can do whatever you want to me. I am never leaving you again."

After setting his sword down on the table, he pulled Voldemort's chair back from the table a little. Voldemort looked at him with an inquiring tilt of his head, then froze as Harry straddled his lap and arranged himself comfortably. He snapped his fingers at Narcissa, who was standing a few feet away and staring at him like he'd grown a set of horns,

"Your master will eat now."

Narcissa blinked dazedly before rushing forward and making quick work of loading the table with all sorts of breakfast items. Harry held out a piece of bacon, waving it in front of Voldemort's nose.

"You need to eat. Here."

Voldemort shook his head without energy. Harry kept his voice light despite the guilt that was eating at him,

"It's bacon. You love bacon."

Voldemort just frowned and turned away. Harry held his chin and made him meet his gaze before pressing a kiss to his lips. He spoke with a faint smile on his lips,

"You will get more of those if you eat."

Voldemort stared at him, wide-eyed, then he slowly leaned forward and took a bite of the bacon. Harry murmured mischievously,

"Good boy."

He felt a sense of great relief. He had fully expected Voldemort to push him away or snap at him. Voldemort huffed at him instead, but took the next piece less slowly. Harry gave the promised reward, leaning back down to give a lingering and heated kiss. They were both flushed by the time he drew back. Voldemort arched an eyebrow at him, his hands coming to rest around his waist,

"Why are you so insistent on feeding me?"

Harry leaned closer and breathed into his ear, grinning,

"You're going to need all your strength to cope with me."

Voldemort's other eyebrow went up, his eyes beginning to glint,

"Really…and what do you have planned?"

Harry let the moment build, then leaned down to kiss that tempting mouth once more,

"Well, ministry for now…but later, I'll let you have your wicked way with me. How does that sound?"

Voldemort leaned back in his seat and Harry saw the disbelief in his eyes. He leaned forward and murmured against his lips,

"I mean it, Lover. I'm tired of the games. I want you. You want me. There's nothing else that matters anymore."

Voldemort held him tighter and Harry saw the way his eyes lit up with life and a little bewilderment,

"What the hell have you done to me?"

Harry cupped the back of his head and smirked,

"I could ask you the same thing."

Finally, Voldemort's lips curled into a smile and Harry felt the way it brightened up his heart and his soul. He leaned forward and Harry thought he was going to whisper something in his ear but instead he felt the warmth of Voldemort's lips engross the shell of his ear. It was utterly impossible to even focus on his own intentions when that clever tongue kept laving his ear. He bit back a gasp when Voldemort began to gently nibble on it with his teeth. Voldemort's soft sighing exhalations were the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard.

He shivered as the suckling resumed, little goose bumps rising upon his body. He half wanted to tuck his ear into his shoulder, because the touch was becoming perilously close to tickling, and a giggle hovered in his throat. He choked it down, sighing a little in relief as the lips released his ear and began to gently lick and kiss down his throat. Without thought, he tilted his head to give better access, hearing a small growl as Voldemort accepted the wordless submission, teeth closing on the exposed skin for a moment. The sense of possession, of being dominated, made a hot spike of sensation flare in him, and he took a deep, shaky breath in response.

The sound seemed to enflame Voldemort, and he tightened his hold on him, his mouth coming down to capture his lips in a greedy kiss, tongue probing deeply, tasting every last portion of flesh in an obvious claiming. Harry found himself arching to meet Voldemort's lips, his arms coming up to wrap around Voldemort's shoulders.

When they finally parted for air, Hary was flushed and panting and Voldemort's eyes were wide and dark as he stared at him in wonder. Then he smiled and the expression was utterly beautiful. In that moment, he knew how much he loved Voldemort. He would do anything to keep that smile on his lips…anything. Voldemort gently brushed back his hair as he spoke,

"You were missed a great deal, Harry."

Harry rested his forehead against his and sighed,

"I missed you too, Lover."

He was just content to stay like this for the rest of his life. This felt so right. But the moment didn't last and Harry was forced to pull away as he covered his mouth with his hand and coughed hard enough to leave him breathless. His insides throbbed with pain and he could only lean against Voldemort and rest his head on his shoulder for support as he struggled to catch his breath. He heard the concern in Voldemort's voice when he asked,

"Are you alright, Harry?"

Harry nodded his head, hitched up a grin and straightened up,

"Yeah, I'm good. Now feed me, Lover. I'm famished."


	90. Chapter 90

Voldemort had left him with a clear order to finish breakfast and dictated the timings of the meeting with the delegation of the magical congress of America. He jumped to his feet as soon as he was gone and rushed up the stairs to his room. He managed to reach the sink just in time to throw up the contents of his stomach.

He had only forced himself to eat because he needed to keep his strength up. So much for that. He rinsed his mouth and brushed his teeth, as the waves of nausea continued to roil through his stomach. He shivered and exited the bathroom while he pulled out the bottle from his jacket pocket. Pouring himself a glass of water, he popped two of the pills in his mouth and downed the glass of water in one, hoping against hope that they would work on him. He pushed the bottle back into his pocket and pulled the feather out from the waist of his jeans and stashed it under the mattress. He had to research what it could do. He had a feeling Deus would know all about its magical properties but he didn't trust Deus or anyone else for that matter. After combing his fingers through his hair, he walked out of the room and ran straight into Draco,

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Draco had a peculiar look in his grey eyes. Had he heard him throwing up? He hadn't exactly been quiet so it was a possibility. Finally, Draco spoke,

"You're not alright, are you?"

Harry pushed past him and made his way to the dining hall to get his sword from the table. He could hear Draco following him and groaned inwardly,

"What do you want, Draco?"

Draco's voice was earnest when he spoke,

"I want to know what's going on."

Harry grabbed his sword from the table and turned around to face him,

"Nothing is going on. Stop worrying your pretty little head and chill out."

He made his way to the living room while he contemplated whether or not he should break the news about his cancer to Voldemort. He was at the fireplace when Draco spoke,

"You're not alright. No one else notices it because they're too busy hating you but I do."

Harry ducked his head and sighed. He didn't understand Draco's sudden interest in his wellbeing but since he meant well, he couldn't bring himself to be harsh. He turned around and met his gaze as he spoke,

"Listen, Draco. If I wasn't alright, Voldemort would have noticed it. I'm perfectly fine so please stop worrying about me."

Draco nodded doubtfully and Harry turned back around and flooed himself to the ministry. Making his way through the Atrium, he was followed by a mixture of dubious, fearful and incredulous stares. Ignoring them, he stepped into the elevator and heard the death eaters talk about the way he had kneeled and kissed Voldemort's feet this morning. When the whispers died down, he smirked and spoke nonchalantly,

"I absolutely love your oratory skills. You spoke about it in such vivid detail that I can almost picture it all. Would you be kind enough to tell me what happened afterwards?"

The death eaters flushed red and Harry saw one of them eye his sword with absolute fear. He frowned in mock disappointment and tsked,

"No? I was so looking forward to hearing all about it. Oh well…"

He adjusted his hold on the sword and the death eater that had been eyeing his sword screamed like he had swung the blade at him. He laughed and exited the elevator. Rabastan had been so right. He didn't need magic to be intimidating. He walked straight to the meeting room and knew that it was already underway. Pushing open the door, he walked straight in and Voldemort looked up from his place at the head of the table with something like fondness. He looked around the table and spoke softly,

"Sorry for being late. I got held up at the elevator."

He took his place at the vacant chair on Voldemort's right as the meeting was resumed and Voldemort started talking. All through the meeting, Harry took notes and mostly remained silent unless Voldemort asked him something or someone else from the table specifically asked for his opinion. When the meeting was over and the delegation had departed, Voldemort rose to his feet and he looked perturbed. He was about to get up when thick ropes wrapped arounds his wrists and ankles and bound him to the chair. He was a bit puzzled at the sudden turn of events but decided to let it play out and watched Voldemort as he paced the front of the meeting room furiously,

"Ummm…Can I know…"

He couldn't finish his sentence because Voldemort had his hand clamped over his mouth and his crimson eyes were filled with fury,

"Who the hell are you and what have you done to Harry?"

Harry held Voldemort's gaze as Voldemort removed the hand and demanded,

"Speak!"

Harry relaxed in his chair and continued to hold Voldemort's gaze as he thought about the situation at hand. It was funny that Voldemort thought he was an imposter. Well, he guessed that Voldemort's doubts were fair since he had been acting off character. Maybe Voldemort was having difficulty digesting the fact that he really had kissed his feet this morning or that he hadn't caused any disruptions in the meeting. He winced when Voldemort gripped his hair and yanked his head back,

"Owww…Save the hair pulling for tonight."

Voldemort's lips were pursed in a thin line and his face conveyed his rage perfectly. He decided to get this over with,

"Ask me anything you want."

Voldemort considered that for a moment before tightening his hold on his hair and spoke,

"For all I know, you could have stolen all his memories and you'd be able to successfully answer anything I ask you."

Harry closed his eyes and laughed at the absurdity of the situation,

"You know that no one can touch my sword except me."

Voldemort leaned forward and growled,

"It could be a fake."

Harry opened his eyes and held Voldemort's gaze as he grinned,

"If it's a fake and I'm an imposter then you should be able to touch it."

He looked at the sword on the table and spoke,

"Go on then. Touch it."

Voldemort released his hair and had extended a hand to touch the sword when Harry spoke,

"On the other hand, don't touch it. You'll burn your hand again."

Voldemort growled angrily but instead of touching it with his entire hand, he used his index finger. The result was instantaneous. Voldemort snatched his hand back and Harry saw that his skin had indeed been burned. The ropes vanished and before he knew it, he was holding Voldemort's finger and blowing on it,

"What the hell are you waiting for. Heal it."

Voldemort raised his wand and traced it over the small burn as he healed it before pulling him into an embrace and kissing his head fervently. Harry couldn't help but wrap his arms around him and bury his face in the crook of his neck as he inhaled him,

"I am so sorry, Harry."

Harry rubbed his back and pressed a kiss to his jaw,

"I don't blame you for being suspicious. But…"

Voldemort pulled him away and met his gaze,

"But what?"

Harry grinned and kissed Voldemort's nose,

"But it bothers me that you thought I was an imposter when you were kissing me this morning. It means you'll kiss anyone…"

He wasn't able to finish the sentence because then suddenly they were kissing in a furious clash of teeth and tongues as they stumbled back towards the nearest hard surface…which happened to be the edge of a table. Harry's hips hit the wood, and Voldemort lifted him, pushing between Harry's thighs so their cocks aligned. He ground against Harry's hardness and Harry groaned. Voldemort slid his hands under the fabric of his T-shirt, digging his fingers so hard into his skin he'd leave marks. Voldemort's mouth found his neck again and bit down and Harry hissed,

"You really love marking me there, don't you?"

Voldemort growled and pushed up the front of his shirt and bit his chest instead. He sucked on a nipple and then on the sensitive skin beside it, drawing a mark to the surface that Harry knew would probably last for days. Harry groaned as pleasure coiled tight in his stomach. Voldemort moved to attack his mouth again, kissing him deep and dirty, his hands in his hair holding him in place as their hips moved together in a rhythm born of desperation. And then the moment ended as the door burst open. Harry pulled away from Voldemort's lips and flopped back on the desk as he fought to catch his breath while Voldemort glared irately at whoever had interrupted them,

"We're definitely jinxed or something."

Voldemort bent over him and kissed his lips softly. Harry gazed up at him and the love in his eyes was utterly unmistakeable,

"We shall continue this later."

He realized that the last time Voldemort had said that to him. He had said no and ended up hurting him extremely badly. Even now, Voldemort looked so unsure…like he was certain that he would decline. He raised himself into a sitting position on the table and smiled,

"We definitely will."

Voldemort was about to walk out of the meeting room when he turned around and asked,

"Where have you been the past two days, Harry?"

Harry rose to his feet and straightened out his clothes,

"You can say that I was taking some time away to do some thinking."

Voldemort raised an eyebrow at him,

"And what have you thought?"

Harry ran his fingers through his hair and met Voldemort's gaze,

"That I want to spend an eternity with you."

Something shifted in Voldemort's eyes and Harry saw them gloss over with tears. He looked like he wanted to say something but instead of saying anything, he turned his back to him and walked out of the meeting room.

Harry made his way back to his office and Deus joined him on the way there,

"That was seriously hot."

Harry sighed and threw himself in his chair,

"You can't just intrude on our private moments like that… You were the one that knocked on the door, didn't you?"

Deus chuckled darkly and Harry pulled the stack of files towards himself. He pushed half of them towards Deus and spoke,

"Get to work."

Deus grumbled something about being a demon and work being beneath him and Harry snickered,

"Should have thought of that before working you agreed to work for me."

Harry spent most of the day catching up with the work he'd missed for the past two days. Deus had force fed him lunch after that Deus had left him to feed at some point and Harry imagined that he'd probably be feasting on some poor death eater's sexual energy in a broom closet as he had taken another dose of his pills. So far, he believed that they were working because he hadn't coughed at all and the pain in his chest and stomach was monumentally better. He had worked in his office for the rest of the day. It was almost eight when a death eater burst into his office and rasped out,

"There's an emergency at the Atrium."

Harry's heart jumped to his throat as he imagined the order attacking the ministry again. He jumped to his feet and grabbed his sword as he rushed from his office and towards the Atrium. No way was he going to let Dumbledore win again. No bloody way.


	91. Chapter 91

Harry burst out the elevator, sword at the ready, fully prepared to kill but the sight that greeted him forced him to come to a staggering halt. There were no curses flying around, no shouting, no fighting, no order members. The death eaters were gathered around the fountain just like the day when Voldemort had punished Bella for calling him a slut. He sheathed his sword and stepped forward. He was puzzled in fact he utterly confounded. What the hell was going on? He looked around for Voldemort, but he wasn't there. He turned around to face the death eater who had told him that there had been an emergency and demanded furiously,

"What the hell is going on here?"

But the death eater just stood silent and that only served to frustrate him more. Before he could shout, Voldemort's voice spoke from exactly behind him,

"You shall know what this is all about quite soon."

Harry whirled around on the spot and came face to face with Voldemort. There was a gentle smile playing on his lips and nothing but love shimmering in his crimson eyes. He cocked up an eyebrow questioningly and Voldemort cupped his cheek,

"Did you mean what you said to me earlier?"

There was so much hope on Voldemort's face, but Harry couldn't understand what this was about,

"What did I say?"

Voldemort rubbed the spot underneath his ear gently and Harry found himself leaning into the touch,

"You said you wanted to spend an eternity with me. Did you mean that?"

Harry could only nod his head and wonder where Voldemort was going with this. But before he could make sense of it, Voldemort went down on one knee in front of him and Harry couldn't stop the gasp that escaped his lips and mingled with the startled gasps of the death eaters gathered around them. He clamped his hand over his mouth when he saw the ring nestled in the red velvet of the black box It takes a second or two for the sight to sink it, even though it was right before his eyes, larger than life. Amazement doesn't quite cover it. He felt like someone just took his spark of wonder and poured on kerosene. Then he felt lips stretch wider into a gaping grin and his eyebrows arch for the sky. The smile he showed on the outside couldn't adequately reflect what he felt inside; it was like every neurone of his brain was trying to fire in both directions at once. It was the best kind of paralysis.

Words left him. He stared into those bright crimson eyes burning with love, and his heart continued to shriek with joy. But despite that he couldn't will his lips to move. As if stuck underwater, everything was slow and warbled as his mind conjured up all the reasons why this couldn't work. Voldemort's grin widened as Voldemort repeated his words,

"I want to spend an eternity with you. Will you please be mine?"

Harry opened his mouth and then closed it when that one word wouldn't come. Voldemort's eyes desperately searched his… waiting. He had to say something! He searched his mind for something reasonable to say but to his surprise his heart took over and answered for him,

"Yes."

He dropped the sword with a clatter and repeated louder,

"Yes…Yes…Yes…"

There was something about the way Voldemort smiled and the way the sight of it made butterflies escape from the pit of his stomach. It was like the sun had somehow toppled down from the sky and made a home right there in his heart. He had the kind of smile that made him feel happy to be alive and strengthened his desire to live even more. It whisked away his fears and all his doubts like a bunch of fruit-flies caught in a heavy gust of wind. Excitement rushed through his veins. It was pure happiness that had flared up in Voldemort's eyes and for the first time in a while it began to flare in his too. In that moment, he was sure that even if the world around him started collapsing, his heart would not get crushed as long as he was looking at Voldemort.

Voldemort extended his hand to take his and Harry offered it up readily as they held each other's gaze. It was like time had stopped for them and they were trapped in an isolated bubble in which just the two of them existed and only the two of them mattered to each other. Only when Voldemort looked down to pull the ring from the box did Harry steal a glance around and noticed the silent looks of disapproval on the death eaters' faces. Harry felt the cold metal touch his skin and he forced his gaze back to meet Voldemort's. There wasn't an ounce of concern on his face, no fear, no worry, no uncertainty. He knew that the death eaters would never accept him as Voldemort's consort, husband, partner, lover or spouse. Voldemort could torture them as much as he wanted to but he'd never be able to make them accept him. Harry pulled his hand back a little and voiced his insecurities,

"Are you sure about this? Are you absolutely certain that you won't regret it later and abandon me?"

Voldemort frowned up at him and pulled his hand back towards himself,

"Harry, I can never think of abandoning you."

Harry scowled,

"Because I must warn you that if you abandon me then I will make you suffer."

Voldemort chuckled softly, and Harry felt his smile return,

"I will never abandon you. Now, may I have the permission to put the ring on your finger? This position is awfully exhausting."

Harry couldn't help but burst into a fit of giggles as Voldemort tried to slide the ring on his finger and he kept evading it. Finally, Voldemort growled and gripped his hand tight and managed to slip the ring on his finger. He had never felt this happy before. When he managed to regain control of his giggles, he looked down and noticed the utter adoration on Voldemort's face. He was about to get up when Harry rested a hand on his shoulder and stopped him,

"Let me soak up this sight. I never knew you would look so exquisite on your knees."

Voldemort tipped his head back and smirked,

"I believe you asked me to kneel for you if I wished for you to fulfil my wish and beg for me."

Harry pulled him up before Voldemort could say anything and held him gently, cupping his face with one hand. He leaned down and softly kissed the tender area at the base of his neck. He felt the way Voldemort's body melted against his, the trembles that shook his body and the euphoric warmth blossomed within his own chest. Voldemort was breathless as he showered him with gentle, soft kisses, each with its own flicker of warmth. Voldemort gazed at him and looked thrilled beyond words to be the recipient of his affection. He drew back again and whispered,

"Oh, there certainly will be a lot of begging involved later. You'll definitely need all your strength to cope with me, husband dear."

Voldemort gazed at him lovingly, his eyes soft with tenderness before sparking with lust and pure, unadulterated desire. He tilted his head to the side and kissed him, his lips demanding. Harry felt a smouldering heat deep within him as Voldemort's grip tightened, crushing his body to his, gentle yet firm. He slanted his head further, deepening the kiss. Voldemort pressed his tongue to the seam of his lips and, at his grant of access, delved inside his mouth. His arms reached up and tangled Voldemort's neck. He began to feel utterly breathless and, in an instant, he had pulled away from his lips and arched up into Voldemort's chest, moaning at the contact of body heat against his own, before Voldemort drew him back into his lips. Sparks shot down his spine with every push of Voldemort's tongue against his. And then they parted, and Voldemort murmured inaudibly against his lips,

"I love you"

Harry's heart went wild inside his chest as soon he registered those three words. He rested his forehead against his and cupped his face,

"I love you too… I love you so much."


	92. Chapter 92

Harry made a move to pull the blindfold off for the umpteenth time, but Voldemort slapped his hand away,

"Patience, Harry."

Harry allowed Voldemort to steer him over what felt like grass underneath his feet and grumbled,

"Patience isn't my strong suit."

Voldemort chuckled, and Harry felt him run his fingers over the silk blindfold over his eyes,

"You look utterly exquisite."

Harry huffed and felt the path underneath his feet turn from grass to stone,

"Kinky bastard."

Voldemort removed his fingers from the blindfold and pulled him to a halt. He felt his presence behind him and soon enough, he felt Voldemort's chest pressed to his back and his arms around his waist. Harry tipped his head back and rested it against Voldemort's shoulder as Voldemort's lips found the sensitive spot under his jaw. He murmured against his neck,

"Pull it off."

Harry yanked the blindfold and his jaw dropped open at the sight in front of him. He failed to hold back his gasp and Voldemort laughed joyously. They were standing in the courtyard of a huge castle and Harry was staring up at the beautifully crafted towers that were illuminated by the moonlight. They glowed like crystals, sparkling just the same as any cut diamond, their tops disappearing into the fog. Several dark ways led from the courtyard great round arches towards other parts of the castle,

"Where are we?"

Voldemort's fingers moved up over his chest and a soft whine escaped from Harry's throat,

"Home."

He spun around to face Voldemort and looked into his eyes before inquiring,

"Home?"

Voldemort nodded and pressed a kiss to his forehead, exactly over his scar,

"Our home."

Our home. He couldn't quite believe it. This had to be a dream. It just had to be a dream. Everything was too good to be true. He ran his thumb over the ring on his finger to make sure that it was really there. Voldemort wrapped his arms around him and pulled him to his chest,

"I love you and yearn to give you everything in the world."

Harry buried his face in Voldemort's shoulder as he coughed. The pain in his chest was accompanied by a pang of guilt. He had to tell Voldemort everything. He pulled his face away to speak up but the happiness on Voldemort's face killed his words,

"Do you remember when you told me that I was just as homeless as you were?"

Harry closed his eyes and nodded,

"I wanted to bring you and Rabastan here after the ball."

Harry kept his eyes squeezed shut and held Voldemort tighter as he fought his tears,

"He's here."

Voldemort rubbed his back and kissed the top of his head,

"I know, Harry."

They stood there for a moment and then Voldemort spoke gently,

"Let me take you inside."

Harry nodded and pulled away. Voldemort led him into the castle and Harry was utterly mesmerized. It was absolutely beautiful. The floors were marble. All stair rails were ornate mahogany, carved and polished so that they shined. The furniture was all handmade by master craftsmen. The air was scented with fresh flowers and Harry found himself loving it as it somehow soothed his burning lungs. The hallway was carpeted with an indigo material with elaborate golden designs and draped with tapestries and dark curtains, making the whole place look regal. Voldemort whispered against his ear,

"Do you like it?"

Harry pretended to think about it for a moment and savoured the doubt on Voldemort's face before bursting out,

"I LOVE IT!"

Voldemort's features relaxed and his eyes lit up with joy once more. Harry leaned forward and whispered against his ear,

"Take me to bed, husband dear."

Voldemort grabbed his arm and turned him around. Pushing him against the wall, he kissed him possessively and growled,

"You have no idea what hearing you say that does to me."

Harry held Voldemort's heated gaze and spoke with mock innocence,

"You like it when I call you Husband dear?"

Voldemort nodded and nipped at his neck. Harry giggled and writhed against him as Voldemort's hands raked over his body and found all of his ticklish spots. When Voldemort pulled away, Harry put as much distance between them as he possibly could to catch his breath. When he had, he cocked an eyebrow up and asked,

"I'm beginning to think that you don't have a bed in this huge castle."

Voldemort smirked,

"I do have one. I will have you know that it is a king-sized bed."

Harry grinned,

"I hope it's sturdy."

Voldemort shrugged,

"I have not been in it yet."

Harry spoke, drawing the words out as he approached Voldemort. Voldemort snickered. He took the few steps to close the distance between them and brushed his lips against his,

"Welcome home, Harry."

Harry smiled and kissed him gently,

"I love you."

He couldn't stop saying that. Voldemort took Harry's hand and tugged him toward the stairs,

"I love you too. Come now, I wish to show you your new bed."

Harry corrected him,

" _Our_  new bed."

He chuckled but stopped at the base of the stairs. He took their joined hands and kissed the tip of Voldemort's ring finger,

"I'll have to get you a ring."

Voldemort laughed and closed his eyes. Harry's lips brushed against the nape of his neck, and he turned his head to meet the kiss before Harry could pull away. He cupped his cheek to keep him in place for the fervent kiss he delivered next. It was hot and wet, and Harry eventually broke it to pant for air and spoke breathlessly,

"You mentioned a bed."

Voldemort lips crooked up in an evil grin,

"It is a really nice bed, Harry."

Harry nodded and kissed him again,

"Maybe we should test it to see how nice it is."

Voldemort grabbed his hand and yanked him up the first step,

"Come on."

Harry pulled Voldemort back and then took the first couple steps alone. He turned around and smirked down at Voldemort, mischief written all over his face, then went up another step backward and pulled off his jacket. After dropping it on the step, he started unbuttoning his shirt. Voldemort stated up at him, utterly mesmerized for a moment before his gaze turned challenging and he warned as he put one foot on the bottom step,

"I will catch you."

Harry smiled and licked his bottom lip while moving up and back again, undoing another button. Voldemort took the next steps two at a time and growled,

"If that is what you want then so be it. Be naked by the time you get to the bedroom. It shall be less work for me."

Harry laughed and hurried up a few more steps before turning toward Voldemort again and finishing with the buttons, leaving the shirt to hang open as he started on his belt,

"Come on, Husband dear. I've got some motivation for you."

Voldemort warned as he put both hands on the railings and pushed himself up two more steps with a grin. He swiped out for his feet.

"Harry…"

Harry singsonged as he moved up and out of reach, the ends of his belt dangling. His fingers moved to the button of his jeans,

"Lover…"

Voldemort whined as he watched him undress halfway up the stairs with undisguised lust. If he caught him before the bedroom, Harry was sure he'd be taking him where they landed. It was too big a day for them to mess around with such niceties as mattresses and beds.

"I assumed we were trying to test out the bed, not the stairs."

Harry shrugged out of his shirt and tossed it over the railing before teasing,

"Weren't you telling me to be patient a few minutes ago? I think you should take your own advice now."


	93. Chapter 93

He shook his head and pulled off his robes as Harry watched, tongue between his teeth. Then Harry turned and was gone, leaving him to hustle after him. By the time he caught him he was standing in the enormous bedroom, pants discarded, the black fabric of his briefs stark against his pale skin. He licked his lips because he suddenly had the urge to taste every inch of him. Harry chuckled,

"Hey, Hungry Eyes. My face is up here."

His attention snapped up to Harry's face and the smile curving his lips and the glint in his emerald eyes had a mischievous quality to them. Whatever was running through his mind was anything but innocent. He stepped closer to him and grabbed his hips as he sank to his knees and kissed his belly, starting at the ridge of his lowest rib and working down toward his hip. His fingers curled under Harry's briefs as he nuzzled against his warm skin. Harry moaned, sliding his fingers into his hair and muttered,

"Aw damn. There goes my motivation to try out that bed"

He tugged Harry's briefs down, leaving the elastic to hug at Harry's thighs as he bit the tender skin of Harry's hip. Harry exhaled shakily and groaned,

"Bastard."

He grinned up at him. He had learnt to take that as a compliment long ago. He had never been on his knees for anyone before but something about Harry made him take an obscene amount of pleasure in doing this. Harry could have anything he wanted as far as he was concerned. He climbed to his feet when Harry urged him to, and Harry's hands wrapped around him, holding him close as they kissed, and Harry turned them until his knees were against the edge of the bed.

He sat hard, dragging Harry to him before he could get away. He kissed Harry's belly and chest as he tugged him to stand between his legs. Harry settled his hands on his shoulders, then slid a finger under his chin and tipped his head back. As he looked up, Harry traced the lines of his face so gently his fingertips barely touched the skin. His emerald eyes were burning up with love and it was a sight he had never thought he'd see. He gazed up at him adoringly, his heat banking under the intimate caress. Harry's fingers trailed down to his throat before pausing.

"Damn, I love you."

He pulled him down and kissed him. He let his lips just slide over Harry's as he guided Harry back into the bed with him. Harry pulled away at the very last moment and the mischief in his eyes made him groan,

"You know I was just thinking."

He rose to his feet. This couldn't be good,

"What were you thinking about?"

Harry took a step closer and rested his hand on his chest,

"You might not be a proper virgin but you're a virgin where it matters, right?"

He raised a questioning eyebrow and Harry sighed,

"I can't imagine you allowing anyone to ever top you."

He couldn't help but feel a bit puzzled by Harry's train of thought. Harry took another step closer and spoke,

"I want to do it."

His shock must have been apparent on his face because Harry chuckled before his expression grew heated again and lust shone in his eyes,

"I want to top you. I want to be the first, the last and the only person to claim you."

Heat rushes down across his flesh straight to his groin. Why was the idea so appealing? He had never let another being dominate him. Why did the thought of Harry claiming him set him on fire? He supposed he should have expected this from Harry. He was anything but compliant and he had a knack for being unpredictable. Harry ran his hands down his body as he murmured,

"Will you let me?"

Harry's soft lips brushed against his. The kiss was needy and vicious. One of his hands slid around the back of his neck to hold him in place as he deepened the kiss. His tongue was hot and powerful as it dominated his mouth. He was about to say something, but Harry's hand squeezed around his cock through his clothes, and the words left him as he unwillingly thrust against him. He gripped Harry's face on both sides and held him in place while he kissed him back hard. Harry's deft fingers were soon unbuttoning his shirt and yanking them down his shoulders. Something about the way he was taking control made him want to give in and he breathed out,

"Yes."

Harry pulled away from his lips and looked him in the eyes for affirmation. He reassured him, and a smile blossomed on Harry's lips as he made quick work of unbuttoning his pants and then pulling them along with his briefs down his legs. He stepped out of them and noticed a bit of doubt on Harry's face,

"Umm…are you really sure?"

He cupped his cheeks and spoke,

"More than anything else."

Harry ducked his head and murmured,

"I've never done this before."

He lifted his chin and pressed a light kiss to his forehead,

"I am certain that your instinct will guide you."

Harry held his gaze and spoke,

"What if I hurt you?"

He shook his head and with a flick of his wrist conjured a bottle of lube. He handed it to Harry and Harry finally grinned when he looked down to see what it was,

"Use it well."

Harry finally broke into raucous laughter that filled the room and lit it up,

"Seriously, that's the worst thing you've ever said to me."

He was about to take a step back when Harry pulled him back towards him and spoke,

"I appreciate your trust."

He couldn't help but smile at that and kissed Harry again. When they parted Harry was back to his confident self,

"You can have your turn after I'm done."

He licked his lips at the prospect. He couldn't wait for that to happen. Harry must have read the desire on his face because he flashed him a smouldering grin. That smile was pure sin, but he knew that it would get him whatever the hell he wanted. He couldn't help but feel that he was in trouble. Harry reached up and gripped the side of his neck. Their mouths fused together again and all the apprehension disappeared. When Harry kissed him, he made him lose himself in him.

They kissed until he was dying for release. Harry finally pulled away, and his voice was husky and demanding as he growled,

"Get on the bed, Lover."

He ran his fingers through his hair and attempted to shake away the nerves and the disbelief. He had never even dreamt of this and it was happening. He had always imagined himself on top in each and every fantasy he'd had. This was just…bizarre and against everything he was but it didn't feel wrong, so it must be right. He had told Harry he would give him anything he wanted and if Harry wanted this then he would give him this. Harry grumbled and gave him a shove onto the bed,

"Lover. Get on your knees and let me claim you."

Harry's words fuelled the fire that had been burning inside him and his cock jolted,

"I never imagined you would be so domineering in the bedroom."

Harry smirked and winked,

"If it's any consolation, I never imagined it either. But now that I know what it feels like, I can tell you that I love being in charge."

He couldn't help but grumble,

"So do I."

He climbed onto the bed and eyed Harry over his shoulder. He was absolutely gorgeous. He was running his fingers through his hair and trying to hide his nervousness, but it showed in his lean frame and his eyes. Harry's lips quirk up on one side,

"Anyone ever tell you that you have a nice ass?"

He snorted,

"Anyone would only say that If they wished to perish."

Harry growled,

"Bend over, Lover."

His nerves were tight with anticipation, but he obeyed because Harry had him just about ready to explode with his orgasm. He mentally chided himself for being so weak, but resistance was futile when it came to Harry. The bed dipped as Harry climbed on behind him. His palm was warm on his back and he craved more of that warmth,

"Relax, Lover. This is going to feel good."

Harry sounded like he was trying to reassure himself more than he was trying to comfort him. He exhaled and nodded as Harry popped open the cap on the lube. The sound unnerved him, and he wondered if he should have used magic instead. Harry rubbed the tip of his finger down the crack and a shiver rumbled through him. Harry was oddly silent and it was apparent that he was focusing very hard on getting this right. Gently, he pushed his finger inside. It didn't hurt…just felt different…very very different. When he started moving it in and out, he couldn't help but let out a hiss of air. It felt good…it felt very good. He was beginning to understand why so many of his death eaters had been eager to jump into his bed,

"Do you like that, Lover?"

There was a hint of doubt in Harry's voice and he had to reassure him that it was fine. He groaned and pushed back against his finger, meeting him thrust for thrust,

"It feels exquisite, but I want more."

Harry laughed softly and pressed a kiss to his back,

"I have to prepare you before you start begging me for my cock. Oh, and I did tell you that there will be a lot of begging involved."

Harry's confidence was intoxicating. He was about to retort but then Harry started working another finger inside and stole his breath. It burned a little, but he enjoyed it. The jolts of pleasure zapping through him from deep within reassured him that this was right and nothing else mattered in this moment. He was Harry's and Harry was his in this moment. That was the only thing that mattered.

Harry prepped him in some magical way that had him pinching himself to pull himself away from the edge of orgasm. He wanted to save it for his turn. He  _would_ get his turn. Harry spoke teasingly, his free hand affectionately gripping his hip,

"You won't kill me if I tell you that your ass was made for me, right?"

He growled, and Harry chuckled,

"I'm going to try another finger."

He tensed in anticipation, which only made him completely aware of the foreign fingers inside him. With a deep breath, he relaxed again just as Harry started pushing another digit inside him. He cursed verbally as a thrilling shudder coursed through him. Harry stilled and caressed his lower back as he spoke, his voice low and husky,

"I'm so turned on right now."

He glanced over his shoulder, and sure enough, raw lust was shining bright in his emerald eyes. He was so close, and he was afraid that his orgasm would overwhelm if before Harry was even inside of him. He ground out

"Harry, I'm ready."

Harry smirked, which made a fresh wave of pleasure surge through him,

"Patience, Lover. You know it's going to hurt."

Harry slid his fingers out of him, and he felt so empty. Harry's palm slapped his ass, and for a moment he was shocked to the core before he regained his composure and glared at him over his shoulder, Harry laughed,

"Calm down, Lover. You'll get your turn to pay me back."

He heard the lid snapping open again and then after a while he felt Harry's tip start rubbing against his entrance. He groaned because he knew that Harry was purposefully tormenting him, and he didn't have the patience for it. He wanted him. All of him. Harry growled,

"So eager. You're driving me absolutely crazy."

Harry pushed slowly into him and a delicious fire burnt through him as he entered him inch by slow inch. It was too much but not enough. He wanted it. He wanted it all. Harry slid the rest of the way in and then paused. The sensation was intense and sent ripples of pleasure zapping through him. His body was on fire and he wondered if Harry could feel the heat. He had never felt this good. He had never experienced pleasure like this before. It made everything all the more perfect. Harry was made for him and to have this with him only served to reinforce the love he felt for him. The sound of Harry coughing forced him out of his thoughts but before he could ask him if he was alright, he slammed into him, effectively cutting off the words, and he roared as he fisted the sheets. Pain mixed with pleasure pulsates through him. It intoxicated him. Each time Harry thrusts forward, he nailed that sweet spot inside of him and he nearly came. He pinched himself again. He didn't want to come yet.

Their groans and moans echoed in the massive room. Harry went slow at first but when he grew fairly certain that he wasn't hurting him, his strokes grew more purposeful. He thrust into him hard and without apology and he didn't want it any other way. Pleasure built up within him…deep inside him…and he grew closer and closer to the edge…But, the thought of having Harry underneath him gave him the control he needed, and he exhaled and staved off his climax.

Harry cried out over him as he came inside him, and his fingers dug into his back. It was intense and felt absolutely amazing. He clenched his ass which made him hiss, and a grin pulled at his lips. He may be under him, but he liked that he could control his cock with one simple movement. Harry pulled out suddenly and collapsed on the bed beside him. His body was flushed, his eyes were closed, and his breathing was choppy. He winced as he turned on his side and ran his fingers through Harry's tousled raven black locks. A lazy kiss blossomed on Harry's lips and he spoke,

"I think I just lost my mind. Give me a minute to find it."

He caressed Harry's cheek and then traced his finger down his neck. A soft moan escaped Harry's lips and his eyelids fluttered open, revealing his gorgeous eyes that were filled to the brim with satisfaction,

"Can't wait for your turn?"

He shook his head and Harry grinned. He rolled them into the middle of the mattress, getting Harry under him. Harry stretched out, spreading his arms over his head and pulling one knee up.

He stared for a moment, entranced, and Harry closed his eyes and let his hand travel down his own body, palm sliding over his inner thigh as he arched his back. Harry purred,

"I'm still not sure about the bed though."

He moved his hand from his thigh onto the mattress. He grabbed the bottle of lube from where Harry had dropped it and growled,

"Allow me to assure you."

His breathing was harsh, and he was painfully hard. He ran his fingers up the inside of Harry's thigh, urging him to spread his legs wider, and then he kissed the inside of Harry's knee. Harry moaned out,

"Lover…"

He hummed as he dragged his tongue up the inside of Harry's thigh. Harry breathed hard through his nose, laid his head back, and closed his eyes, so he pushed one of Harry's legs to the side, kissing his neck as Harry opened up for him. Harry's silent submission was enough to snap his patience and he prepared Harry as swiftly as possible. When he was absolutely sure that he wouldn't hurt Harry, he gave into his desire, and started thrusting into him, past the clenching muscles and in deep despite the resistance from Harry's body. Harry cried out in agonized pleasure, body bowing and writhing. Heat coursed through him, and he grabbed at the sheets above Harry's head as Harry pulled both knees up and squeezed at his waist, laying himself open and letting him take complete control.

He worked his hips until he was buried inside Harry, and then he stretched out over Harry to cover his hands. They laced their fingers together. He breathed against Harry's lips,

"I love you."

Harry managed through an overwrought groan,

"If you knew half the things I want you to do to me tonight…"

He pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth,

"So, tell me. But I have a feeling that this will not last long if you do."

Harry pulled his knee higher and hooked his ankles at the small of his back and moaned out,

"It has to last."

Harry was completely hard again and looked like he was tethering on the edge of climax. With a grunt of effort, he flipped them over, and Harry wound up astride him, His hands grasping his thighs. He pulled up his knees behind Harry and used the angle to thrust into him.

Harry's back arched as he rode his cock, rolling his hips and groaning. His eyes closed, and his head fell back as he rocked deep inside him. He insisted as he gripped Harry's hips,

"Open your eyes, Love,"

Harry forced his eyes open and met his gaze, rolling his hips and whimpering. Harry's body shook as he lifted up and sat down again, knowing just how to get what he wanted. He slowed his rhythm, either trying to stave off the orgasm or torture him. Possibly both.

It was what he wanted to see and feel and hear, that inevitable snap of intense pleasure when Harry lost all control. Harry's body trembled over him, his breathing coming in gasps and pants. He had to fight with every ounce of control he had not to come inside Harry as he watched.

Harry maintained their gaze as long as he could, but he closed his eyes and cried out when the orgasm hit him again and he curled over. He held on to him as the climax ripped through him, keeping Harry in place while he thrust his hips up over and over, claiming Harry through it, jutting into those pulsing muscles until he couldn't stand it any longer and rolled Harry onto his back again. He took him hard and fast, forcing him into the mattress, hiding his face in Harry's neck, until he was yelling as well, his body jerking in Harry's tight embrace as he came in a series of loud and entirely gratuitous moans.

He collapsed against him once he'd spent himself. He was careful as he pulled out, kissing Harry so he could taste Harry's gasp when he pulled free, then rolling sideways with a plaintive huff. Harry rolled with him, still panting as he kissed him desperately. Their lips mashed and tongues got caught between teeth, but they kept at each other like they'd been starving for it. Harry finally stopped it by catching his chin in one hand and spoke breathlessly

"It's okay. I'm never going to leave you again, I promise."

He rubbed his nose and cheek against Harry, eager to just feel and smell him there so close. He was finally his,

"I love you."

Harry kissed him again,

"I will never get tired of hearing that. I love you too."

Harry drew him to himself, not paying any mind to the mess of cum splattered between them.

They lay quietly for a while as their breathing calmed, and he felt Harry smile against his cheek. Harry sighed as he looked up at the ceiling, and then he rolled onto his side and pushed himself back against him in a silent demand that he be cuddled,

"Did I manage to assure you about the bed?"

Harry shrugged and made an uncertain, almost negative sound as he snuggled into his arms,

"I don't know."

He pressed a kiss to Harry's head,

"You are still uncertain. I think I shall have to replace it since it has failed to satisfy you."

Harry buried his face into his chest and spoke innocently,

"I'm just saying. I think we should check it out again…you know…just to be sure before you replace it."

He held Harry close to him and sighed fondly,

"You are insatiable, and I utterly adore it."


	94. Chapter 94

Harry woke up in the middle of the night with his lungs on fire and coughing breathlessly. Voldemort was holding him tight and rubbing his back, but it wasn't working. He curled up tighter against Voldemort as his chest and stomach felt like they were being scorched by acid and his body starved for oxygen. He was distantly aware of Voldemort murmuring something…some incantation but it wasn't working. It wasn't working at all. He couldn't draw in a particle of oxygen into his lungs. There was a stake being hammered into his chest, the strikes radiating pain in a way that shattered his body and brain. The darkness crept up at the edges of his vision and he fought it with everything he had in him. No, he was not going to pass out. He was not going to die. He absolutely refused to die. Voldemort's voice got louder and more desperate as recited the incantation. He held onto the sound of Voldemort's voice, willed it to anchor him to consciousness but the pain was merciless and without escape and his body's desperate need for oxygen was increasing by the second.

For a second, he felt too weak to fight. For a moment, giving in felt like the better option. His head fell onto Voldemort's shoulder, his eyes flickered shut. Voldemort carded his finger through his hair as he pleaded,

"Breathe, Harry…Please…breathe for me…"

Those words were incentive enough for him to fight all the more harder and his efforts bore fruit. Eventually, the pain settled into a sort of sharp throbbing that kept time with both his and Voldemort's heart. He drew in several shuddering breaths and Voldemort continued to soothe him as he held him close to his chest,

"Keep breathing, Harry. You are going to be fine now…"

Harry wrapped his arms around Voldemort's shoulder and buried his face in the crook of his neck,

"I have some confessions to make."

Voldemort laid him down on the bed and pulled the covers over him. He was still struggling to breathe properly but the pain had gone down a notch. He noticed his blood on Voldemort's chest and wrapped his arms around his waist. Voldemort kissed his temple and murmured against his skin,

"Confessions can wait. You need to rest."

Harry drew in a shaky breath and managed to get out,

"My jacket…"

Voldemort brow furrowed, and puzzlement filled his eyes, but he summoned his jacket and Harry signalled wordlessly to the pocket as his breathing hitched once more. Voldemort retrieved the bottle from the pocket. Harry forced himself into a seated position and took the bottle from Voldemort's hand,

"Water."

He popped two of the pills in his mouth and Voldemort held the glass of water to his lips. Swallowing the pills was a battle in itself but once that was done, he leaned back against the headboard and put the bottle on the side table. He smiled when he felt Voldemort's arms wrap around him and pull him close once again. He could feel the concern pouring off Voldemort's being and that cut him up inside,

"What can I do to make you feel better?"

Harry snuggled into his chest and spoke,

"Just hear me out as calmly as possible."

He breathed in Voldemort's scent and willed it to give him the strength he needed to get the words out. Voldemort ran his fingers through his hair and spoke with a voice that was laced with uncertainty,

"I am listening."

He moved his fingers over the flawlessly smooth skin of Voldemort's back and breathed out,

"I have cancer."

Voldemort's body stiffened against his and for a moment, Harry thought that he was going to pull away from him and shout but that didn't happen, instead Voldemort's body relaxed. He chuckled, and his voice was filled with fond exasperation when he spoke,

"Harry, please be serious. Cancer is not even a possibility. You have magical blood running through your veins."

How was he going to explain all this to Voldemort? The task seemed more difficult than anything he had ever done before,

"I am being serious. I don't know how it happened, but the theory is that Dumbledore messed with my magical core and damaged it beyond repair. The damage is the reason I lost my immunity to muggle diseases and I think I can't even cast magic anymore."

This time Voldemort did pull away and his hopeful crimson eyes searched his gaze for a sign that he was joking. He wished he was joking. He wished he didn't have to put Voldemort through this but this wasn't a joke and Voldemort needed to know. Harry's heart broke into a billion tiny shards just as the hope shattered in Voldemort's eyes and the realization that he was telling the truth dawned on him. A thousand emotions flitted in the span of a second through Voldemort's eyes and finally the emotions that dominated them were pain and rage. Voldemort thrust his wand in his hand and spoke in a deceptively calm voice,

"Cast a spell."

Harry's hand trembled uncontrollably as he struggled to keep a hold on it. This was the moment of truth. He was going to find out whether he had really lost his ability to perform magic. Harry prepared himself for every outcome but he couldn't get his lips to utter an incantation. Voldemort held his hand steady and pressed a kiss to his forehead,

"You can do it, Harry."

Harry wished he had as much confidence in his abilities as Voldemort had but he didn't. He aimed it at the pill bottle that he placed on the side table and spoke,

"Accio bottle."

It didn't even budge and Harry nearly dropped the wand as everything inside him felt wrecked. Till now, he had been clinging to the hope that Deus's theory might be wrong and that he hadn't lost his magic. Now that hope had been shattered and it hurt like hell. Voldemort's hold tightened on his wrist and he spoke,

"Try again."

There was no point in trying again. Voldemort was only saying that because he didn't feel what he felt. The spark…the energy he had always felt when he had cast any spell was gone. He searched desperately for it, struggled to get a hold of it but there was nothing left of it inside of him. There wasn't a shred of it left,

"I can't do it…I don't have it anymore."

Voldemort's hand fell away from his wrist and Harry dropped the wand as his mind clouded with pain, his heart grew cold and numb with pent up emotions. He felt clogged with pain and anger, hurt, and fear. His chin trembled as if he was a small child. His breathing got heavier until he was gasping for air that simply wasn't there. His throat burned forming a silent scream. So, he let it out in one long mournful yell to the heavens. He cried with more violence than any gale. He didn't break quietly, it was like every atom of his being screamed in unison. He could feel himself unravelling, the threads of his being, all but a disarray of strings scattered about him. His upper body and shoulders wracked with every sob that forced its way out. His chest rose and fell unevenly as he gasped for breath. He squeezed his eyes shut, balling his hands into fists each time he threw his head back to let out a blood curdling scream.

And then Voldemort was there, holding him, kissing him, picking up the strings and disentangling them, weaving him anew with his warmth and the love he put in every brush of his lips, in every caress, in every touch, in every soft word that he uttered,

"I love you…I love you…I will always love you no matter what, Harry."

Harry closed his eyes and hugged him tight, trying to stop his tears, trying to control his sobs. Voldemort rubbed his back and whispered softly,

"Let it out. Let it all out. Do not hold it in, Harry."

So, he did. He cried until he ran out of tears and sobbed until his throat went dry. Voldemort held him through it all and kept whispering encouragements and soft praises. When he had quietened down completely, Voldemort held a glass of water to his lips and he drank it down in a single gulp. Once he felt relatively in control of his voice, he asked,

"Don't you have questions?"

Voldemort kissed his head and caressed his cheek as he murmured,

"I have countless questions."

Tears were flowing down Voldemort's pale cheeks and Harry raised his hand and wiped them away,

"Ask then."

Voldemort shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut,

"I believe that I do not possess the strength or the bravery to hear the answers."

Harry cupped his cheek,

"Open your eyes and look at me."

Voldemort opened his eyes slowly and Harry held his pain filled crimson gaze as he spoke,

"I don't intend to die, Lover. I won't die. I'm looking for a way to best death and I will."

Voldemort held his gaze and Harry saw the pain being replaced with firm resolve. He leaned forward and rested his head on his shoulder and Voldemort's arm instantly wrapped around his waist,

"You are not alone anymore, Love. I will not allow death anywhere near you. We will get through this together."

Harry nuzzled his head in the crook of his neck and spoke,

"Yeah, I know."

After a few minutes of companionable silence as they both digested the truths they had learnt, Voldemort spoke,

"How long have you known?"

Harry hesitated before speaking,

"I found out about it when my second attempt at suicide failed and I wound up in the hospital."

Voldemort stroked his hair gently and then spoke softly,

"Tell me everything about your condition."

Harry exhaled before telling him everything he had learnt from his reports and everything he had researched. Voldemort listened silently and without any interruptions. He only spoke when Harry was done explaining,

"We will get through this. You're mine now, Harry. I won't let anyone take you away from including death."

He kissed his lips and Harry reciprocated just as hungrily. When they parted, Voldemort's eyes were glowing with rage and a wicked smirk curled his lips,

"And I will make Dumbledore pay dearly for what he did to you."

Harry grinned back and kissed him harder,

"I can't wait for that day."


	95. Chapter 95

Harry turned on his side and looked at Voldemort, who was seated in a chair beside the bed and completely immersed in a book,

"Tell me again why we're here?"

Voldemort turned a page and spoke without looking up,

"You have asked me that question for the umpteenth time in the past three hours."

Harry was lying on a hospital bed. Voldemort had brought him here because the doctor was known as the world's best oncologist. The doctor had run all the tests and scans on him anew and now they were waiting for the reports. He was about to touch the IV attached to his arm when Voldemort slapped his hand away. Harry cursed verbally and spoke,

"There is no bloody need for this."

Voldemort closed the book and sighed,

"Harry, I need this."

Voldemort caressed his cheek and Harry allowed himself to relax,

"You are the most precious thing in the world to me and the only reason I brought you here, to the world's best oncologist, is because I am clinging to the hope that there might be a cure, that there might be some hope of you recovering from this."

Harry closed his eyes and Voldemort sat down beside him on the bed and kissed his lips,

"Don't get your hopes up."

Voldemort's arm snaked around his waist and Harry rested his head in his lap,

"Harry, I do not want what happened to me to happen to you. Immortality is not what it seems like. It is a curse that I cannot allow you to bestow upon yourself."

Harry opened his eyes and stared up into Voldemort's crimson ones,

"How did you gain immortality?"

Voldemort smiled and gently carded his fingers through his hair,

"I created horcruxes."

Harry pursed his lips and spoke,

"You'll have to explain that to me."

Voldemort chuckled softly and pressed a kiss to his temple,

"A Horcrux is the word used for an object in which a person has concealed part of their soul... Well, you split your soul, you see, and hide part of it in an object outside the body. Then, even if one's body is attacked or destroyed, one cannot die, for part of the soul remains earthbound and undamaged."

Harry took Voldemort's hand in his and entwined their fingers together,

"How did you split your soul?"

Voldemort pursed his lips and his body grew tense,

"Well, first a wizard has to deliberately commit murder. This act is said to be one of supreme evil, and results in the murderer metaphysically damaging their own soul. A wizard who wishes to create a Horcrux would then use that damage to their advantage by casting a spell which would rip the damaged portion of the soul and encase it in an object."

Harry kissed his hand,

"How many did you make?"

Voldemort hold tightened on him and he spoke gently,

"Six."

For a moment, they just sat there in silence and then Harry asked,

"Your eyes…your previous form…they were all side effects of the process, right?"

Voldemort nodded slowly and held him closer,

"Do you see now why I cannot let you do that to yourself?"

Harry closed his eyes and nodded. The cogs were beginning to turn in his head though and he mused,

"What happens if someone destroys one of your horcrux? Will you feel it?"

Voldemort shook his head and spoke,

"I am not certain, but it will severe one of my ties to immortality and if someone manages to destroy all of them then I shall die."

Harry cursed loudly and tried to get up. The IV tugged at his arm painfully and he cried out at the unexpected pang of pain. Voldemort laid him down, adjusted the IV and demanded,

"What happened, Harry?"

Harry closed his eyes and bit out as he tried to control his breathe,

"Dumbledore…Your memories in his office…He was looking for your horcruxes…That bastard was looking to destroy you…"

Voldemort smiled brightly and kissed his forehead,

"Relax. Just breathe."

Harry focused on regulating his breathing as Voldemort stroked his hair,

"I knew what he had been after when you told me that you destroyed the memories."

Harry held his hand and spoke,

"Are they protected?"

Voldemort's smile brightened and he pressed a kiss to the ring on his finger,

"I know one of them is."

Harry looked down at the ring and laughed,

"I knew it looked familiar."

Voldemort chuckled and pulled the covers over him again,

"Yes, it was a Gaunt family heirloom. I turned it into a horcrux when I murdered my father."

Harry closed his eyes as the memory he had seen in Dumbledore's office played on the forefront of his mind and then he saw it and he couldn't believe what a fool he'd been. His hand automatically went up to his neck and he kicked the covers again as he struggled to get up. Voldemort physically held him down and sighed,

"What happened now, Harry?"

Harry held Voldemort's gaze and whispered,

"I've been incredibly stupid."

Voldemort chuckled and pushed his hair away from his forehead,

"And what did you do?"

Harry couldn't stop running his hand over his neck. He'd been wearing the locket, the night he'd passed out at the club and Deus had taken him to the hospital. Had Deus known what it was and stolen it? Well even he wasn't sure of what it was yet. He held Voldemort's gaze and asked slowly,

"Umm…one of your horcruxes wouldn't happen to be Salazar Slytherin's locket now, would it?"

Voldemort's eyes widened with horror and he spoke in a low voice,

"How do you know that?"

Harry dug his fingers into his neck and murmured,

"I bought it a couple of weeks ago, right before the ball. In fact, I was wearing it at the ball and even after that. I think I misplaced it a couple of days ago when…"

He broke off in mid-sentence. He couldn't tell Voldemort about Deus, so he spoke,

"When I had to go to the hospital."

Voldemort's gaze was intense when he asked,

"You misplaced it? Are you certain that it was the original?"

Harry looked away from him and took in a deep breath. He couldn't wait to get out of here and ask Deus about where he had put the locket,

"Yes, it was the original. I felt it's heartbeat."

He closed his eyes as he felt rage pouring off Voldemort,

"I'll find it."

Voldemort released him and rose to his feet,

"How do you expect to find it?"

Harry sat up straight and just as he was about to yank the IV out, the doctor stepped into the room. The look on his face told him everything he needed to know, and he was sure that Voldemort's hopes of there being a cure were going to dashed to the floor.

The talk with the doctor went just as Harry had expected. All through it, Voldemort wore a glamour to hide his crimson eyes but he could see it flicker as he was slowly consumed with rage. Harry thought it was a small miracle that the doctor managed to leave the room unscathed. As soon as the doctor exited the room, Voldemort let the glamour drop. He looked like he was going to kill someone. Harry pulled the IV out as slowly as possible and spoke,

"I told you not to get your hopes up. I know I won't survive. Every time I cough, I'm rudely reminded that I'm here on borrowed time. Drawing in every single breath is a bloody fight for me and I'll lose that fight sooner or later. I can't fight forever."

Voldemort pinned him to the bed and put his hands against the mattress on either side of his head. Pain and anger radiated from him in waves until he vibrated where he stood. Harry watched as he took in a deep breath as if trying to control himself,

"Do not talk about this as if it means nothing."

Harry pushed him away and rose to his feet,

"It means everything to me… This life with you means everything to me. What do you think I'm fighting for? Who do you think I'm fighting for?"

Harry's knees softened, and he would have collapsed on his knees if Voldemort hadn't grabbed him and held him up,

"I get that you're mad at me for losing the locket but if I'd known what it was, I would have defended it with my life. I would have done anything to…"

Harry couldn't finish the sentence as Voldemort claimed his lips with his and kissed him hard,

"I am not mad at you."

Harry huffed and turned his head away,

"Liar."

Voldemort's expression softened, and he led him back to the bed and sat him down,

"Fine. I am mad at you but I am mad at myself more. I should have informed you about my horcruxes when you told me about the memories. This is my fault, not yours."

Voldemort pulled him to his chest and ran his fingers over his back,

"This is too much, Harry. How can you be so brave?"

Harry felt Voldemort's tears soak his shirt and he couldn't hold back his own. He tried to keep his tone as light as possible and spoke,

"Hasn't anyone ever told you not to cry in front of the dying person. And you're The Fearsome Dark Lord. What will your death eaters think if they see you crying on my shoulder?"

Voldemort gritted out through clenched teeth,

"They will say nothing if they value their lives and as for you…you are not going to die. There are other means to gain immortality apart from Horcruxes and we will explore all of them."

Harry hugged him tight,

"All of them?"

Voldemort kissed his cheek and murmured,

"Every single of them."

Harry wiped away Voldemort's tears and kissed his nose,

"You look awfully adorable when you cry."

Voldemort growled and lunged at him, but Harry pulled back and jumped to his feet. He forgot he wasn't steady on them and nearly stumbled and fell again. Voldemort was holding him up in the blink of an eye and spoke in a low, gentle voice as he pulled him up into his arms,

"You are my life, Harry, and I will do anything to protect you."

Harry wrapped his arms around his shoulders and nipped at his neck,

"You look even more adorable when you say all those sappy lines."

Voldemort chuckled softly and bent his head down so that their foreheads touched,

"Oh, so you consider my proclamations sappy? Perhaps, I should find someone else who truly appreciates them."

Harry narrowed his eyes at him and growled,

"No! You're mine and I reserve the right to snarl at every bloody woman who looks at you and I sure as hell have the right to take my sword to every single man who tries to flirt with you."

Voldemort pushed his hair away from his forehead and grinned maliciously,

"Well, it is a good thing that I am the fearsome Dark Lord. The chances of women staring at me and men flirting with me are less than zero."

Harry laughed humourlessly and spoke,

"Yeah, well my threat goes for every person you stare at or flirt with. I should be the recipient of all your sappy lines."

Harry turned his head and exposed his throat so that Voldemort could trail kisses down it,

"I believe I can outmatch you in your possessiveness, Harry."

Harry closed his eyes as he savoured the kisses and hummed softly,

"I don't doubt it."


	96. Chapter 96

It had been a week since their visit to that oncologist. It had been a week since they had been exploring every means to gain immortality and it was beginning to turn out that they were lesser than expected and none of them was viable enough. Deus had been missing ever since Voldemort had proposed to him that day and Harry was seriously beginning to worry that he had permanently returned to hell…not that he minded…it was good to be out of his vile company, but he knew that he had the locket and he wanted it back. He needed Deus to return, just once...After that, Deus could go wherever he wanted.

Harry coughed and rested his forehead on the desk. If Voldemort had his way, he would probably chain him up to the bed to stop him from ever leaving it but he couldn't stay in bed. He felt like he was being suffocated and he couldn't bear it. Umbridge cleared her throat and spoke,

"These require your signatures urgently."

Harry raised his head and grabbed the quill before signing the files. The door opened and Harry felt Voldemort's presence before he saw him and it caused him to smirk. Voldemort came to stand behind him and rested his hands on his shoulders. Umbridge had risen to her feet and was cowering in fear. Harry leaned back in his seat, tipped his head back and smiled up at Voldemort,

"Don't scare my assistant."

Voldemort bent down and pressed a kiss to his forehead,

"You are overexerting yourself."

Harry laughed and turned back to the papers,

"I'm just signing some papers. It's not overexertion."

He coughed again and Voldemort must have glared at Umbridge because she scurried out of his office, closing the door behind her. Voldemort came to stand in front of him and leaned back against the desk,

"Did you take your pills?"

Harry snickered,

"You gave them to me yourself an hour ago."

Voldemort pursed his lips and cupped his cheeks,

"You know I cannot stop worrying about you. You absolutely refuse to rest and insist on coming to the ministry."

Harry rose to his feet and drew closer to him,

"I told you I can't just sit idly. It makes me feel sick."

He stroked his cheek and a knock on the door interrupted them. Harry spoke,

"Come in."

Harry couldn't help but grin when he saw who it was,

"Deus! You're back. I'm so happy to see you."

Deus smiled shyly and ducked his head. Harry knew that he was only maintaining that persona for Voldemort and spoke,

"Lover, Deus and I have some catching up to do."

Voldemort ran his fingers through his hair and kissed him,

"There is a meeting with the vampire delegation in an hour."

Harry snorted and couldn't hold back his mischievous grin,

"Yeah, I know. I wouldn't miss it for the world."

When Voldemort was gone, Deus dropped the innocent persona and a malicious grin lit up his features,

"You two are incredibly hot together…a ten-course meal in my words…"

Harry coughed and covered his mouth with his hand. When he managed to get his breathing back to normal, he ground out,

"Where's the locket, Deus?"

Deus settled down in a chair,

"What locket?"

Harry closed his eyes and leaned back against the desk,

"Don't play games with me, Deus. I was wearing it that day I passed out in the club and you took me to the hospital. There was no else there, so I know that you have it."

Deus was silent for a while and then spoke,

"You mean this locket?"

Harry opened his eyes and saw it resting on the palm of his hand. He moved to grab it when Deus closed his hand and pulled it away,

"You seem very desperate for it. What's so special about it?"

Harry felt irritated. He couldn't tell Deus what it was,

"I spent a very large amount on it and its mine, so I don't need a bloody reason to have it back."

Deus laughed, and Harry growled,

"Give it back. Why'd you take it off me anyway?"

Harry bent over as his cough worsened. Deus was forcing him down into a chair immediately and slid the locket around his neck,

"Here, it's yours. Just relax."

Harry rested his forehead against the desk and clutched his stomach as he tried to regulate his breathing and get over the searing pain. Deus rubbed his back and whispered gently,

"Relax, Mon Ravissement."

When Harry felt normal again, or as normal as he could feel, he straightened up and ran his fingers over the locket, feeling that tiny heartbeat inside it. They'd collected all of Voldemort's horcruxes from their hiding places except the diadem and the diary. The diadem was in Hogwarts and he had destroyed the diary in his second year. He still felt utterly guilty about it but Voldemort had told him a million times that it wasn't his fault. He couldn't help but grin when he remembered the way Voldemort had tortured Lucius to punish him for being careless with the diary. Deus's voice pulled him out of his thought,

"I had to take it off because they needed to run some scans on you."

Harry nodded. He remembered that Voldemort had taken off his ring too when they had visited the oncologist last week,

"Where have you been?"

Deus rested his hand on his shoulder and spoke,

"Had some matters to attend to. Did you miss me?"

Harry leaned back in his seat and smirked,

"Yeah, I missed you."

Deus settled down the desk and Harry spoke,

"I lost my magic."

Deus smiled sadly, and the expression just looked a bit out of place on him. He took his hand and inquired softly,

"Are you alright with that?"

Harry nodded and ran his fingers through his hair,

"It doesn't matter."

Deus rested his elbows on the desk and leaned back on them,

"I could teach you some things."

Harry instantly straightened up,

"What things?"

Deus smirked and spoke,

"My kind of magic."

Harry eyed him suspiciously,

"But you want me to die. Why would you bother to teach me that if I only have a few days to live?"

Deus laughed heartily,

"Let's say that I revisited some of my decisions. I enjoy seeing you happy. Call it personal attachment or whatever else but I adore your relationship with your lover, Mon Ravissement, and I want to see it flourish."

Harry frowned at him and spoke,

"I'm not willing to believe that you had a sudden change of heart, Deus, especially since you're a demon and you don't have a bloody heart."

Deus pouted and spoke in a mock hurt voice,

"That is harsh, Harry. But you're right. You shouldn't trust me. Just think of it this way. You've got nothing to lose by learning what I'm willing to teach you, right? In fact, you have everything to gain."

Harry rubbed his chin before holding out his hand,

"I don't know, Deus. I just hope this isn't another game because I'm in no condition for one."

Deus took his hand and kissed his knuckles,

"Mon Ravissement, I'm not asking you to trust me. I'm just asking you to take advantage of my skills while I'm here."


	97. Chapter 97

Harry still didn't believe Deus, but it wasn't like he was losing anything by accepting his offer but before that he had another pressing matter to attend to,

"I want you to transfer Bella and Nick to my castle."

Deus smirked,

"Yeah, your castle is definitely something. I visited it before I came here, and I've already locked them up in the dungeons. You can have some fun with them tonight. I'm sure your lover would want to join you."

Harry laughed which soon turned into a cough and Deus was there with him again, rubbing his back and trying to soothe him. He was definitely getting worse. It took him several minutes to regulate his breathing and when he did, Deus patted him on the back and spoke,

"You have a meeting to get to now."

Harry rose to his feet shakily as he watched Deus revert to his bashful persona again. Getting on his feet and taking every step was a fierce battle that he fought with his body. He hated how weak he'd become. He made his way to the meeting room with Deus at his heels. The vampire delegation was already there when he stepped into the meeting room. He recognized Marcus and several other vampires. Voldemort rose to his feet at his arrival and rushed to his side immediately. He wrapped an arm around his waist and despite his murmured protests led him to the chair and sat him down before reclaiming his seat the head of the table. Marcus cleared his throat and spoke,

"I was just offering my congratulations to The Dark Lord and I offer you the same."

Harry smiled and thanked him before leaning back in his seat. Normally, he would have talked or flirted but talking made his lungs burn worse than they already did, and he wasn't in the mood for another cough attack. The vampires talked to Voldemort about the politics while Deus stood behind his seat and took notes. Every breath he took left him feeling drained. He must have dozed off at some point because Voldemort's gentle touch on his cheek woke him up and the first thing he saw was Voldemort's pale cheeks and nothing but concern on his face,

"Harry…"

Harry tried to straighten up, but Voldemort stopped him. Harry raised his hands to wipe away his tears and tried to speak but Voldemort rested a finger on his lips and whispered in a broken voice,

"You…you stopped breathing…"

Oh damn. Voldemort pulled him into a hug and Harry saw the vampires all standing there along with Deus. He closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around Voldemort's shoulders. Voldemort's hold tightened on him and he breathed,

"Do not terrify me like that again. Please, Harry."

Harry held him closer,

"I'm sorry…I'm so sorry."

Voldemort kissed every exposed inch of him, as if trying to reassure himself that he was still there…still alive…still warm and breathing. When he pulled away, he spoke softly,

"Do you want to go home?"

Harry shook his head and looked at the vampires over his shoulders,

"You should finish your meeting first."

Voldemort turned to the vampires and spoke,

"I'll see to it that Nicholai is found as soon as possible. Do not fret. I am sure the order is behind it. You may leave now."

As the vampires filed out of the room, Harry couldn't help but grin. Voldemort cupped his face and smiled,

"That gorgeous grin on your face can only mean one thing."

Harry tilted his head back and Voldemort kissed his lips gently before carefully pulling him into his arms. Harry draped an arm around his shoulder and pulled his head back down for another kiss before whispering,

"We're running out of time."

Voldemort pulled him closer and held his gaze,

"I am striving for it."

Harry kissed him again and spoke softly,

"Shall we go and find Nick now?"

Voldemort grinned and kissed him harder,

"Rest first."

Harry groaned as Voldemort apparated them back to their castle and laid him back on the bed before sitting down at the foot of the bed and unlacing his boots. Harry sighed softly and tugged at his hands,

"Come lay down with me."

Voldemort kissed his feet and Harry couldn't help but giggle which was interrupted by a cough. Voldemort was beside him an instant and holding him tight and Harry buried his face in his chest as his heart nearly exploded with fear. What if he stopped breathing again? What if death stole him away in his sleep? He murmured against Voldemort's chest,

"If I should die before I wake, pray no one my soul to take and if I wake before I die, rescue me with your smile."

Voldemort fisted his shirt and Harry pleaded,

"Don't let me die… Please don't let death take me… I don't want to go…"

He didn't care if he sounded afraid or desperate. He was beyond that point now. He could feel Voldemort's tears soak through his shirt. He could hear his whimpers, the sobs he was trying to muffle.

"I will not let death steal you away from me…I promise, Harry…"

Voldemort cradled him close to his chest as he coughed again,

"Just rest…You will feel better after you get some sleep."

Voldemort sounded unsure about that and Harry knew that they both knew that sleep wouldn't help him recover. Time was slipping through their hands like sand and they both knew it.


	98. Chapter 98

Harry leaned against the dungeon wall and stared at Bella and Nicholai's chained forms. Voldemort had been working day and night to concoct a potion for him and he'd taken his first dose about a week ago. Voldemort hadn't told him the ingredients, but Harry knew that it contained unicorn blood because they'd been discussing it and he'd very firmly said no to using it. But seeing the fear and apprehension in Voldemort's eyes had made him drink it up. The point was that it was making him feel much better and stronger. But Voldemort had been gone for a week now, looking for a cure for him or a means of immortality. Harry wanted to travel with him, but Voldemort had declined and left him with Deus. He missed the man desperately.

He stepped closer to Bella and cupped her cheek. She was gaunt and emaciated. Her once blood red lips were now colourless and her hair were a right mess. He snapped his fingers and his sword appeared in his hand. Deus had been teaching him all sorts of useful things and now he didn't really feel like he lacked magic,

"I'm so sorry, I couldn't come earlier, Bella. I've just been so busy."

He raised his hand and showed her the ring and watched excitedly as her eyes widened,

"Guess who gave that to me?"

Bella's nostrils flared, and she would have been screaming in rage, if she hadn't been gagged but Harry wasn't in the mood for a headache,

"That's right, Bella. He's mine forever now and you can't ever have him."

Bella struggled against the chains and Harry laughed,

"To be honest, you never stood a chance, Bella dear."

Harry grabbed her throat and squeezed it until her eyes bulged,

"Shhh…"

He kept his tone gentle as he plunged the sword into her side. Bella tensed. Eyes widening, body shuddering. Muffled screams rumbled behind her covered mouth.

"Come on, Bella. Don't be like that. Where's your arrogance now?"

Harry curved his mouth as he stared at her,

"This is a kindness."

He pulled the sword out slowly and took a step back to see the inhumanely hungry expression on Nick's face at the sight of Bella's blood,

"Don't worry, Nick. I won't let you die. You can have all of her when I'm done with her."

He turned his attention back to Bella and watched as her body shook and her throat worked. He made a few shallower cuts over her arms and face and revelled in her muffled agonized screams.

Once he was done, he surveyed his handiwork. Bella's blood coated the dark blade, dripping small dots onto the floor next to his feet. The sight of blood loosened the tight grip on his chest, but not by much. That brick of guilt over Rabastan's death sitting in his stomach wouldn't ever go away.

The choking sounds Bella made commanded Harry's attention, so he refocused on her,

"You have a few minutes left. Don't fight. Let it happen, because it will."

He made a few more cuts and waited. Bella's muffled wheezing echoed. Death was taking a mighty long time to come for that one and that was a good thing. He wanted to prolong her suffering. Tears blurred his vision as Rabastan's memories played on the forefront of his mind but he refused to wipe them away. The sound of footsteps made him freeze. Even Bella's agonized sounds faded quickly. With his back to the entrance, Harry felt him.

Like the sun on his nape. Like the weight of his body pressed to his, like the stroke of his fingers down his back. He felt his comforting presence everywhere. Bella's eyelids fluttered open and as Harry watched, his gaze followed those footsteps. Harry's fingers flexed around the hilt of the sword and he turned to his left, towards where the footsteps halted.

Voldemort stood there, shoulders against the wall. Dressed in a black shirt along with dark pants and shoes. No robes, shirt tucked into his waistband. Hands in his pockets. Ankles crossed. Something happened when they got in the same room. When their eyes met. When they breathed the same air. A dangerously potent something.

Harry grabbed him by the collar, hands slick with Bella's blood digging into him as he drove him backward. One step. Two. Three, and he slammed Voldemort into the wall he'd been leaning against earlier. His lover chuckled, eyelids lowered. Harry inhaled him, his exquisite scent that stayed in his nostrils. Absolutely intoxicating. Voldemort breathed his name across his lips and Harry forgot all about being mad at him for staying away for so long. Damn him,

Voldemort wrapped an arm around his waist, holding him just as tight. Despite Harry's hand at his collar, Voldemort bent forward until their foreheads were pressed together.

"Did you miss me?"

The question, it sounded innocent. Nonchalant. But those four words ripped a response from Harry,

"Yes."

He tightened his fingers on his collar and said it again,

"Yes."

The smile on Voldemort's face wrinkled the corners of his eyes and curved his mouth wider. Happiness and relief. They brightened him, putting a shine on the dark and dangerous that was barely concealed in his crimson eyes. He pulled him closer and growled,

"Don't you dare leave me like that again."

Harry kissed him, hard and fast, sinking his tongue deep. Delving beyond that for the taste he craved. He wanted everything Voldemort had to offer. And he got it. Hot and slick on his tongue, rocking him backward. Voldemort held on to him and their tongues battled the way they always did.

Chest to chest, heads angled, and mouths fused as they came together with greedy swipes. Harry forgot about Bella dying mere feet away. He forgot about Nick. They were connected, he and Voldemort. Connected by blood and by this crazy unexplainable and emotional need they had to be near each other. Touch each other. Taste each other. Harry had realized how deep their connection was in the past week. He had literally burned for Voldemort every night and If Deus hadn't forced those dreamless potions down his throat, he'd been a wreck by now.

But he tasted him now. All of him and he ached to get closer. He tore his mouth away, throat tight, chest heaving. Voldemort's open-mouthed pants blasted him. As he watched, Voldemort sucked his wet and swollen bottom lip into his mouth, drowsy gaze lifting past Harry's right shoulder.

"I see you started without me."

Harry glanced over his shoulder to find Bella's head had rolled to the right, and she was watching them with slitted eyes. The rage and defeat so obvious on her face,

"I was bored."

Voldemort lifted an eyebrow,

"Ah. So, you're taking your time with her?"

Harry released Voldemort's collar and stroked his cheek, leaving smudges of blood behind,

"I was but something more important came up."

He snapped his fingers as he vanished the sword and enjoyed Voldemort's shock as he brought two fingers to his mouth,

"Wet them."

Before he finished speaking, Voldemort had swallowed his fingers, eyes closed, moaning. Harry could tell that he had missed him just as much. Harry stroked his other hand down Voldemort's front, past his chest and torso, stopping only to unbutton Voldemort' pants and yank the zipper down.

His lover was aroused already. But he grew harder in his grasp. With that knowledge came immense power. Voldemort sucked his fingers hard, and in turn Harry stroked him.

Rough enough for Voldemort to groan, the sound echoing around his soaked digits, making Harry's entire being vibrate. He removed his fingers with a pop then brought them to his own mouth, sucking off Voldemort's taste while holding his lust-filled crimson stare. Burning normal to ash. Voldemort' taste spread through his bloodstream and he smiled.

With one hand, he tugged down Voldemort's pants and briefs to just past mid-thigh. His other hand, the one with fingers slick with saliva, he brought it down and around, between his hips. Stroking the tight hole waiting, already yearning for him. He caught Voldemort by the chin and pressed in.

Voldemort' sharp inhalation echoed in the dungeon and his lashes fluttered but he didn't close his eyes. No. He rose on tiptoe. Lips parted. Jaw flexing. He went up on his toes and then he came back down. Slowly. Opening just enough for Harry's fingers to push in. The way he immediately moulded around him was utterly beautiful. The trust he gave him. His life. His body. His pleasure. Voldemort trusted him with all of it and no one else

Harry held all of it close, probing, delving into the molten heat of Voldemort. Knuckles deep. Transfixed by the reckless perfection of it. By the simple abandon that played across Voldemort' face as he took what Harry gave. Out. Then in.

Harry gave them pleasure. Voldemort's was apparent, but in that moment, Harry got his from watching Voldemort. The telling lines of his body as he rose and fell around Harry's fingers. The guttural needy sounds that rumbled in his throat.

Through it all Voldemort watched him, gaze just as greedy as the body that sucked at Harry's fingers. Voldemort's voice cracked,

"Is this penance? Is this your penance?"

He swallowed, hooking the fingers inside Voldemort,

"Yes…"

His lover's hips jerked hard, cock pressing into Harry's hip,

"Harry…"

Voldemort' voice vibrated in time with his body and he groaned,

"Your touch kills me. It's the sweetest murder, and I want it again and again."

Fingers crooked, Harry went deep in search of that knot. Stroking it,

"Damn!"

Voldemort fisted Harry's shirt, yanking him closer than they already were. His eyes rolled back in his head, and his head followed, banging against the wall,

"I don't…Please."

His throat convulsed,

"Harry. Please."

Knuckles pressed to his prostate, Harry gave Voldemort his release and he cried out his name as hot cum poured into his palm, and tight muscles squeezed his fingers, Harry swept back into his mouth. Taking him again and again. Gentler than before, but not too soft, and when Voldemort's body eased up on the shaking, Harry pulled out of him and slid down his body.

"Harry."

Voldemort caught his nape, staring down at him. Harry pressed his lips to the inside of Voldemort' right knee, resting his forehead against his lover for a moment as he breathed. It wasn't easier to do that, of course not. But it wasn't as difficult as it once was. It didn't ache so badly. Trembling fingers tunneled through his hair, and under his lips tremors still made Voldemort shudder. He whispered the words into Voldemort' skin,

"I love you."

He hooked an arm around Voldemort' thigh and lifted his head, meeting those crimson eyes. They waited for him and he spoke,

"I love you too, Harry. More than anything."

Voldemort pulled him up to his feet and looked over his shoulder as he righted his clothing,

"Time to put Bella out of her misery. I do not believe that she enjoyed our show."

Harry turned around and grinned,

"You see, Bella. I told you he's all mine. I'm so glad you got to see proof before you died."

He felt Voldemort's arm wrap around his waist and felt his lips brush against his temple. Harry summoned his sword and spoke,

"I wanted to torture you more but I believe that there can be no better torture for you than what you just witnessed. So, I guess this is good bye."

He walked forward and snapped Nicholai's chain with his sword and watched with utmost satisfaction as the starved vampire tore her apart and fed on her.


	99. Chapter 99

Harry stared vacantly up at the ceiling as he clutched Rabastan's pillow close to his chest. Voldemort wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him closer,

"You need to rest."

Harry turned on his side so that the pillow was between them and spoke,

"I can't sleep."

Voldemort opened his eyes and pulled him to his chest. Harry buried his face in the soft material of Voldemort's shirt and focused on breathing in his exquisite scent and soaking in his warmth. Deus had been feeding him dreamless sleep draughts every night for the past one week since Voldemort had been gone and tonight was the first night, he hadn't taken one. He had expected that having Voldemort next to him would finally bring him peace, but it hadn't…well it had but…he was just disturbed by that fear of dying in his sleep…he couldn't get rid of it no matter how hard he tried. Voldemort pulled the pillow away from between them, stroked his hair gently and held him tighter and Harry sought solace and security in that hold,

"Harry, I promised to protect you. Do you not trust me?"

Harry nodded silently against his shoulder and murmured,

"I do."

Voldemort kissed the top of his head,

"Go to sleep then."

Harry closed his eyes and allowed sleep to envelope him as Voldemort continued to stroke his hair and soothe him with his kisses.

Harry's frail form felt so precariously delicate in his arms and it shredded his heart. A week of searching and he'd found nothing…not a single bloody thing…He felt so useless. He felt like a failure. Harry was fading away in his arms and he was unable to do anything about it. Harry's irregular breathing was the only sound in the room and it only served to remind him of his helplessness. He'd told him that he could trust him but what if he couldn't keep Harry's trust…what if he couldn't stop death from taking him? No…No…He would not think like that. There had to be a way. There had to be something that would keep Harry with him forever. Harry coughed in his sleep and his entire frame trembled with the force of it. The life sustenance potion he'd concocted for him using unicorn blood only worked during the day when Harry himself was fighting to breathe but during the night, when Harry's conscious will faded, even the potion couldn't achieve much.

Harry coughed again, and he clutched him harder. His uneven breathing grew more uneven and he whispered,

"Breathe, Love…You need to breathe for me…"

Finally, Harry's breathing began to stabilize, and his coughing subsided. He felt the breaths return to his own body and he murmured softly,

"Just a little more…I promise I'll save you."

Darkness turned to light signalling the end of night and the start of a new day and new hope. Harry stirred in his arms and he closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep because he didn't want Harry to worry needlessly. He was used to going without sleep for days. In fact, he had never needed it much. He felt Harry's lips brush against his and parted his lips to give him better access. Harry hummed appreciatively and kissed him languidly, taking his time to explore his mouth with his tongue and running his hands over the length of his body. A muffled groan escaped his lips when Harry pinched his nipple through his shirt and a zing of pleasure rushed straight to his groin,

"I missed you, Lover."

Harry trailed kisses down his neck,

"Missed your body…"

Harry's kisses turned into gentle nips and he cursed verbally as pleasure coiled tight in his stomach and his skin burned pleasantly under the caress of his lips. Harry straddled him and he finally opened his eyes to see his emerald one's twinkling with mischief and life…precious life… Harry bent over him and rested his forehead against his,

"You didn't sleep last night, did you?"

He was about to say no when Harry cupped his face,

"Don't…"

He kissed his lips and murmured against them,

"You can lie to everyone else in the world but not to me…never to me…Do you understand that, Lover."

He could only nod and Harry kissed his lips again,

"I love you more than anything else in the world…more than life itself."

He wrapped his arms around Harry's shoulder and gently rubbed his nose against his,

"I love you too, Harry."

Harry laughed and hugged him tight,

"I love it when you say that to me. It makes me feel more alive. It makes it easier for me to breathe… to fight…"

He held him over himself and murmured,

"Then I shall say it a million times...a billion times..."

Harry's beautiful lively laughter filled the room and all his exhaustion vanished. Harry pressed one last kiss on his lips before getting up from over him. He was about to sit up straight when Harry rested a hand on his chest,

"Don't you dare move. You're catching up on your sleep today."

Harry cocked up an eyebrow in a challenging gesture and he knew that there was no way he was going to win this argument against him. He could bargain though,

"I shall stay in bed if you provide me with your company."

Harry shook his head,

"Nope. The ministry won't run itself and I've been playing Minister since you've been gone. I rather enjoy it… In fact, I enjoy it too much…"

He could imagine that. Harry had an air of absolute authority about him and it was incredibly sensual and the magic he had seen Harry perform last night was something he wanted to discuss with him, but it seemed now wasn't the right time. Harry was picking out clothes from the wardrobe when he spoke,

"Potion, Harry."

Harry turned around and wrinkled his nose,

"I know you put unicorn blood in that potion."

He faked an expression of mock innocence and Harry shook his head before turning his attention back to wardrobe,

"I'll drink it after the shower."

After Harry was content with his selection, he disappeared into the bathroom and emerged fifteen minutes later, bathing the room in his exquisite scent. He wanted nothing more than to pull Harry into bed with him, breathe him in and lick the water from his skin before claiming him. Harry eyed him with a cocked eyebrow and spoke,

"I know exactly what you're thinking, and I might let you do all that when I return tonight but…but it will only happen if you get your rest."

He pouted, and Harry laughed before dressing up in the skin tight black jeans he had picked out earlier, along with a burgundy silk button up, a black and white striped tie and a black vest. He looked utterly delectable. He felt a slight twinge of jealousy that other people would be ogling him all day but the fact that Harry belonged to him gave him comfort.

Harry turned around the spot and spread his arms out,

"How do I look?"

He licked his lips and growled,

"I could just eat you up."

Harry grinned and stepped closer to him,

"Eat me up when I get back tonight."

He picked up the flask from the side table and downed it in one. He didn't miss the way Harry shuddered or the slight tremor in his hand as he put the flask down. When that was done, he bent over him and pressed a kiss to his lips,

"Get your sleep. I'll have breakfast at the ministry. Deus will make sure that I take the afternoon dose along with lunch so don't worry about anything and just focus on resting. We'll have dinner together and then you can have me for dessert."

He couldn't help but pull Harry down for another greedy, rough kiss and spoke softly,

"I shall be looking forward to that."

Harry pulled away and snapped his fingers, for a moment nothing happened but then a dark portal appeared next to the window and he could only stare at it in awe. Harry flashed him a wicked grin and blew him a kiss before disappearing inside it,

"I'll see you tonight, Love."


	100. Chapter 100

Harry was just returning to his office after presiding over a meeting when Deus grabbed his wrist,

"Harry, stop."

Harry came to a halt and found nothing but concern in Deus's eyes,

"What's wrong?"

Deus kept a tight hold on his wrist and spoke,

"He's here."

Harry raised a questioning eyebrow and Deus spoke,

"Dumbledore…he's in your office."

Harry felt the world tilt on its axis at the mention of that hateful name. All those painful memories assaulted him, and he gritted his teeth as he fought to push them back. Deus's hold tightened on his wrist and he spoke,

"Go back to the castle. It's not safe for you here."

Harry yanked his wrist away from Deus's grip and spoke,

"Are you saying that he's stronger than you?"

Deus sighed and spoke,

"I've never faced him before, so I can't judge the measure of his power."

Harry stared at him in disbelief and whispered,

"You're the bloody prince of hell. Are you really telling me that you're weaker than that bastard?"

He turned his back on him and stormed towards his office. Dumbledore was going to die today. Outside the door, he drew in a deep breath, pulled up his calm façade and stepped in. Dumbledore had been seated in his chair…in Voldemort's chair and that was enough to set him on fire. Instead he smiled and drew closer to the desk,

"I can't say I'm pleased to see you."

Dumbledore rose to his feet and his blue eyes twinkled with malicious intent. Harry heard Deus enter in the office behind him and watched as Dumbledore's gaze moved from him to Deus,

"Such a pretty boy."

Harry situated himself between Dumbledore and Deus and spoke as pleasantly as possible,

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

Dumbledore chuckled softly and then spoke,

"Why would I require a reason to visit my favorite student?"

Harry crossed his arms over his chest and felt Deus draw closer to him. He spoke in mock awe and spoke,

"Really, Professor? I'm still your favourite student? I feel so honoured."

He watched the way Dumbledore's smile grew strained and counted that as his first victory,

"I have heard that you are terminally ill."

Harry wanted to deny that but somehow, he felt that if he could elude Dumbledore into thinking that he was weak, he might get the upper hand,

"Yes, you've heard right, and I have you to thank for that."

Dumbledore's smile grew relaxed again and Harry saw nothing but sadistic glee in his blue eyes. How had he ever thought that those eyes were kind and that smile was warm. Dumbledore was the epitome of pure evil,

"How so?"

Harry let all his resentment out when he spoke next,

"You stifled my magical core…you damaged it permanently…I…I can't even cast magic anymore. You stole the most important thing in the world from me and now…now I'm losing my life too… You should rejoice, Professor…You should…"

He coughed and Deus rubbed soothing circles on his back to calm him. Dumbledore stepped closer to him and murmured,

"My boy, you should not have trifled with me."

Harry straightened up and squared his jaw,

"I don't regret anything."

Dumbledore smiled sadly and raised his hand to cup his cheek. Harry took a step back and his back came in contact with Deus's chest,

"I can save you, Harry. If you wish to live, then you need only ask me for help."

Harry rolled his eyes and tilted his head back,

"Yeah right. Do you want to save me so that you can whip me again?"

Harry unbuttoned his vest and murmured,

"Why don't you skip that saving me part and get straight to what you want from me. You want to punish me, hurt me…You want to save me just, so you can kill me…Why don't you just kill me directly?"

Deus grabbed his hands from behind to still them and Dumbledore ran his fingers through his beard,

"Tempting but that is not on my agenda today."

Deus released his hands and Harry forced them into the pockets of his jeans,

"Why the hell are you even here?"

Dumbledore took another step closer to him and this time Harry refused to back down. He snapped his fingers and a gold embellished envelope appeared in his hand,

"I came to hand deliver this."

Harry was about to take the envelope when Deus beat him to it,

"What is this?"

Dumbledore smirked and laughed cheerily,

"The invitation to the Annual Fundraising Ball for Hogwarts. The Minister pf Magic is always the guest of honour and since you are occupying that seat at the moment then I must extend the invitation to you."

Harry glared at Dumbledore. There had to be some ulterior motive behind this. Dumbledore patted him on the cheek and Harry bit down on his tongue as a biting, stinging pain spread from his cheek to the rest of his body,

"Where is Tom?"

Harry managed to slap his hand away and bit out,

"None of your bloody concern."

Dumbledore clenched and unclenched his fingers and Harry smiled despite the pain that was consuming him,

"We'll be there. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a meeting to get to."

Dumbledore swept out of the office with a cold, bitter smile and Harry instantly slumped down to his knees. Deus knelt beside him and rested his hand on his cheek, exactly where Dumbledore had touched him. The pain receded but Harry broke into a coughing fit. He couldn't breathe…He fisted Deus's robes as he struggled to breathe. Deus conjured something and held it to his lips,

"Drink, Harry…You need to drink…"

Harry struggled to get the potion down. It managed to stabilize him but left him utterly drained. Deus picked him up in his arms and laid him down on the couch,

"Rest, Mon Ravissement."

Harry closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath,

"Don't tell Voldemort. Don't you dare tell him anything about what happened."

Deus combed his fingers through his hair and murmured gently,

"I won't."


	101. Chapter 101

Harry woke up with a start and shot up straight. Deus's soft voice greeted him,

"Relax. Everything's been taken care of."

Harry flopped back on the couch and rested his forearm over his face,

"It wasn't a dream, right?"

Deus made an apologetic sound and spoke,

"I'm afraid not."

Harry gnashed his teeth and sat up straight. He hated it…absolutely hated the fact that he'd let Dumbledore go…that he'd let him leave unscathed. He longed to hurt him as much as he'd hurt him…In fact, he yearned to hurt him a lot worse. He was going to hurt him a lot worse. Dumbledore had no idea who he was dealing with. That day was approaching fast when he'd have Dumbledore chained and at his mercy. He coughed, and Deus spoke,

"Maybe you should go home now."

Harry shook his head but couldn't reply because of the coughing fit that gripped him and rattled him all the way down to the core. Deus sat down beside him and rubbed his back but Harry doubled over and before he knew it, he was coughing out blood. Deus was holding him tight,

"Breathe…Harry…please…"

Harry closed his eyes. There wasn't a part of him that wasn't hurting. Deus forced the potion down his throat but that didn't help much. He needed a way to survive and he needed it now. He had no idea, how long he just sat there, slumped against Deus's side but when he was feeling normal enough, he stumbled to his feet and spoke,

"I'm going home."

Deus wrapped an arm around his waist,

"You're too weak to be travelling alone."

Harry shook his head,

"I'm fine."

He wasn't. He could feel himself fading fast and that terrified him. There was no hope in sight. Deus helped him back home, but Voldemort wasn't in the bedroom. Deus walked with him to the study but Voldemort wasn't there either,

"Where is he?"

Deus sat him down in an arm chair and then spoke softly,

"He's burying her or what was left of her."

Harry felt like the ground had slipped from underneath his feet. How could Voldemort bury her despite everything she'd done? She'd stolen his Rabastan. How could Voldemort have forgotten that?

"Leave."

Deus was about to speak when Harry whispered,

"Please."

Deus vanished, and Harry got up, grabbed a bottle of firewhiskey from the bureau and took a swig directly from the bottle. He had no idea how much time had passed when Voldemort finally showed up and spoke,

"Harry…"

Harry turned around to face him, tightened his hold on the bottle of firewhiskey and stepped forward, crowding him,

"You buried her."

Voldemort's crimson turned sad and he whispered,

"I am truly sorry."

Harry threw the firewhisky with a roar, right past Voldemort's head. The bottle smashed against wall, spilling the last of the liquor,

"I don't want your bloody apology"

How could Voldemort just apologize? How could he even believe that a sorry would make everything better. The words slipped past his lips and they sounded hoarse,

"How could you?"

Voldemort raised his hands to touch him, but Harry took a step back. Voldemort held his gaze but let his hands fall. He looked so sad. Harry wanted to go to him. Touch him. Soothe him. But what about the ache inside him? The ache that Voldemort had caused with that action. He tipped his head upward and spoke,

"Leave me alone and go mourn her."

He gave Voldemort his back, slumping over the desk, eyes squeezed tightly closed. Ice gripped his chest, the cold shocking a gasp from him. This was betrayal, shaking his body and rattling his teeth. This was heartbreak, the searing pain that made his entire being curl in on itself. This was pain.

A hand settled on his shoulder and he yanked himself away, but Voldemort caught him. They were fighting, scrambling. Voldemort pulling him, and him struggling to get away from him.

It hurt. It hurt way too much.

Voldemort managed to get him face to face, and fisted his tie, choking him. Harry swung at him, hitting him in the jaw. Then Voldemort's mouth was on him, biting, tongue shoving in. Bringing the taste of blood.

Harry shook at that taste of him, and he opened wider. Wanting more. Asking for it. Voldemort claimed his mouth hard, eating him up, panting as he tore at Harry's clothes, ignoring his shirt and vest in favour of unbuckling his pants and shoving them down his hips.

Harry brought his hands to Voldemort's crotch, gripping him through his pants, squeezing him. Damn it. He was on fire. Anger and lust burning through him. Voldemort finished opening his own pants and shoved Harry face-first onto the desk,

Hand at his nape, forcing him down.

He went, because he wanted this. Fingers pushed into him. Hard, slamming deep. He convulsed but didn't hide from it. Voldemort's fingers almost left him, and he ground out,

"More."

Wet fingers claimed him, fast. Furious. They branded him, inside and out. Voldemort's grip on the tie around Harry' neck, pulling tight, cutting off his breathing as he struggled for air. Struggled. Voldemort liked when he struggled.

The fingers disappeared. Then Voldemort was there, knuckles brushing Harry's hips, smooth blunt head at his hole. He slammed in.

"Oh Merlin."

Harry jerked, flailing, arms knocking over the ink well. Everything rattled around as Voldemort claimed him. Fast. Like it was a race. As if they had an expiration date, which they did. As if they were in danger of getting caught. Smack of the skin on skin. Their moans.

Numb fingers gripping the edge of the desk, Harry rocked against him just as hard. Pushing back on him, opening himself up for that cock to sink deep. Then pull out.

Over and over.

The pounding rattled his bones. He kept his eyes closed, feeling everything, tasting it on his tongue. After everything that bitch had done, Voldemort had still cared enough about her to give her a proper burial. She had deserved to rot in the dungeons…Hadn't Voldemort cared about Rabastan one bit?

The thought awakened something awful. He jerked away, and Voldemort pulled out of him, stumbling back. Harry faced him and found Voldemort still wore his clothes, everything on, except for his pants that were around his knees. Eyes wild. Nostrils flared. Lips swollen and cut on the bottom.

Harry walked away stripping as he went, into the bedroom. Not looking back to see if Voldemort followed. He did, Harry felt him, warm and restless at his back. Then his hand went around Harry' neck, gripped the tie. Wrapping it around his fist. Using it to control Harry's movements, bringing them face to face. He'd also undressed, and he stood there in front of Harry. Harry closed his eyes at the sight of him.

A jerk on the tie brought him nose to nose with Voldemort, and Harry' eyes flew open as Voldemort's mouth descended on his again. Taking him again with desperation, every swipe of his tongue stealing away his thoughts.

He couldn't say no. Couldn't turn away. Everything about this was necessary, even the restriction around his neck, denying him an easy breath. Voldemort panted into his mouth, tongue delving deep.

Harry clawed at him, striving to leave his own marks on him. He took two steps and they fell onto the bed, Voldemort on the bottom, Harry on top, writhing. Riding him.

Grinding.

Their cocks pressed together, hips jerking as they rubbed against each other. Voldemort moaned, body vibrating under Harry. He took control, breaking the kiss, lips skating down Voldemort's throat.

Voldemort let go of the tie to cup Harry' nape, fingers dipping into his hair, pulling. Tugging. Harry made his way downward. Biting nipples. Just plain biting. Tasting skin.

He straddled Voldemort, one hand on the other man's chest, the other wrapped around his cock. Bringing it to his entrance. Staring into Voldemort's eyes, eyelids weighted down with lust. With regret and remorse.

He lifted up, rubbing against the cock at his hole, until Voldemort's fingers raked down his front. He sank down on it, cursing, panting,

"Damn…"

Voldemort yanked him down, teeth in his chin, palm on his hips as he thrust upward.

"Harry."

Hurt so good. Everything about Voldemort hurt him so damned good. He begged for more. More pain. It was all he knew anymore. All his body understood. Weak from all the sensations bombarding him, he clung to the sheet on either side of Voldemort. The tie tight at his throat cutting into his breathing.

Over and over Voldemort banged into him. Harry cried out with each stroke. Death strokes, because they killed him. Yet he didn't stop loving them. Arching into them, pushing back. Rising up and slamming down.

Until Voldemort caught him around the neck and reversed their positions. Now he was on top, Harry's back pressed into the mattress. Legs in the air. Ass filled again. Body contorted, almost folded in two. Each thrust pushed him into the headboard.

He kept his eyes on Voldemort, because Voldemort kept his crimson eyes on him. That gaze, filled to the brim with darkness, wild lust and the roughest type of hunger, it touched Harry where not even Voldemort's cock could reach. So deep inside, Harry couldn't handle it, not then. He twisted around, flipping onto all fours.

Knees spread wide, torso kissing the mattress. Spine curved and ass pointed to the ceiling,

"Take me."

He didn't do coy. Never had. He wanted to be claimed tonight. Tomorrow was for different things. He recognized the thirst for destruction on slow leak inside him. He'd deal with it tomorrow. Tonight, now, he was Voldemort's. Harry offered himself up on a silver platter. Voldemort took that offering. Slamming deep. Harry threw his head back,

"Yess."

He hissed out his appreciation,

"Just like that."

Just like that Voldemort delivered his strokes. Steady and precise, hitting his gland over and over. Battering him until Harry pitched forward, face in the pillows, cries muffled as Voldemort worked him over.

His to claim. His to torture. His to hurt and torement.

Harry had never ached so good. Never cried out so loud. Never begged so much,

"Deeper. Let me feel it. Let me feel."

Voldemort came down over his back, sweaty front pressed to Harry' back. Mouth on his nape, panting breaths in Harry' ear. One of his hands shoved under Harry and reached up, circling his throat. He tilted his head back, gave Voldemort access as those fingers closed around him. Squeezing. Taking his breath.

His pulse tripped over itself and that fire in his belly roared into an inferno. Flames everywhere as he burned. Breath gone. Darkness rushed in.

"Lover"

Whatever breath he had left, he used it up to speak his name. The fingers eased up and breath came rushing back. He gulped, body jerking as he panted. He really was a sucker for breath play. Voldemort's hips lifted off him. His dick retreated, leaving Harry' clenching ass.

"Don't."

The ragged whisper hurt,

"Don't go."

For a second there, he wasn't just talking about Voldemort's departure from his body. Lips pressed to his ear, his temple. Simple, but Harry couldn't stop shaking. Trembling,

"I'm here, Harry. I'm sorry…so sorry."

Voldemort came back to him, wet dick pressing back inside. Slowly. Dragging along his throbbing muscles. Reaching places. He switched it up, going slower, almost tender. Harry contracted around him, and Voldemort grunted. He reared back and drove in.

Yes. He could handle the hard stuff. The rough treatment.

But Voldemort didn't seem to care because he went slowly again. So slow, taking his time to sink deep and roll his hips. Harry pushed back onto him, trying to urge him to go for that bit of rough again.

That wildness. The breakneck, punishing pace again.

But Voldemort kissed his neck. He stretched out on top of Harry, hands sliding down Harry' arms. Fingers reaching for his, clutching him. Harry's breath hitched because he knew he'd break.

Don't do this.

But it was too late. Already too late. Voldemort claimed him in silence. Slowly. Making sure Harry's destruction was complete. Teeth grazed his skin, and without a hand on his cock he exploded. Just like that. Voldemort smothering him with sweaty skin and biting kisses, their fingers twisted around each other.

A pulsing cock thrusting in and out of him.

He came shouting, bucking. Arching off the bed as he spasmed, ass contracting painfully as sticky warmth flooded him.

Voldemort climaxed with him, grunting, fingers painful around him. Harry couldn't stop clenching, and in response Voldemort's shaft jerked inside him. He didn't move when Voldemort finally lifted himself off and pulled out.

There was no reason for him to feel owned, like Voldemort's possession. But he did anyway. He scrambled upright and past Voldemort who watched him with hooded eyes.

In the bathroom he ignored his eyes in the mirror as he splashed water on his face. He should have known. He should have known that the bitch would continue to ruin him even when he'd destroyed her. He picked up something, a soap dish, and threw it across the bathroom. Then he scrubbed a hand over his face. His body was still quaking.

He clenched his muscles, gritting his teeth. He wouldn't stand for this. He coughed and covered his mouth with his hand.

He walked out the bathroom. Voldemort hadn't moved from the bed. He stared at Harry, gaze falling lower to where his cum was probably decorating Harry' legs. He didn't bother to look to confirm that.

"Harry."

Damn, his voice. That sound, coupled with Harry' name, destroyed things. Bloodied things. Voldemort's voice invoked memories of that night he'd spent between him and Rabastan. And even though Voldemort had betrayed Rabastan, he still loved that voice. The way it weakened his knees and stiffened his spine. The way it flayed him open, exposing parts of him no one but Voldemort ever got to see. He showed his enemy his weakness,

"I want to be alone."

He managed not to sound as shattered as he truly was. He fisted his hands at his sides. Hardening himself against another apology,

"I love you, Harry. I am sorry."

Those three words were enough to crumble all his defences. He strode over to the bedroom window, looking out at nothing. Trying not to let his weakness show but it was impossible, and the grief and his weak knees overpowered him to the floor.

But he didn't hit the floor because Voldemort was suddenly there…holding him…hugging him close to his chest and Harry fisted his robes and cried,

"How could you? How could you hurt me like this?"

Voldemort buried his face in his neck and murmured against his skin,

"I was not thinking. Forgive me, Harry. Please…"

Harry closed his eyes and rested his head on Voldemort's shoulder,

"I want her gone from the premises of my home. Feed her remains to sharks or toss them to wolves…do whatever you want but I want her gone permanently and I want her gone in the worst way possible. She doesn't deserve a grave…do you understand me?"

Harry felt Voldemort nod and finally smiled,

"I love you too."


	102. Chapter 102

Harry woke up curled up in bed with Voldemort's chest pressed to his back and his arm around his waist. He coughed, and Voldemort kissed him on the nape,

"Did you take your potion yesterday?"

He nodded silently and nuzzled into Voldemort's hold. He could feel Voldemort's uneasiness and spoke,

"I'm sorry about last night. I overreacted."

Voldemort turned him around and Harry saw tears shining in his crimson eyes,

"No, Harry…No…You have no need to apologize. I love you. You mean the world to me. I should have been more mindful of your feelings."

Harry buried his face in Voldemort's chest and wrapped his arms around him,

"I love you too."

He closed his eyes and relished Voldemort's hand running up and down his back. He coughed again and remembered how weak he'd grown yesterday. He needed a way to survive and he needed it fast. He didn't have a lot of time left. What if they didn't find a way to get him immortality? What if death got to him first?

Harry mentally scolded himself. He couldn't think like that. He couldn't lose hope now. Voldemort held onto him tighter and kissed his head,

"Harry, you're hiding something."

Harry closed his eyes and smiled against Voldemort's skin,

"I'll tell you if you promise not to freak out."

Voldemort laughed softly and pressed a kiss underneath his ear,

"There is no instance in which I overreacted."

Harry rolled his eyes and snorted,

"Yeah right. Just promise me."

Voldemort ran a finger down his spine and murmured,

"I promise, Love."

Harry nestled his head in the crook of his neck and spoke,

"Dumbledore came to my office yesterday."

Voldemort instantly pulled away from him and sat up straight. Harry saw his crimson eyes smouldering with rage. The vanity crashed to the floor with a loud bang and the sound of shattering glass echoed around the otherwise silent room. Harry rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling,

"Just so you know, that is called freaking out. Stop wrecking our bedroom."

Voldemort came over him and straddled him before gripping his chin and growling,

"Summon Deus."

Harry raised his head up from the pillow and bit Voldemort's lower lip,

"Ooooh I love it when you get all bossy, but you know I don't take well to being ordered around."

Voldemort's gaze softened, and he bent down and caressed his cheek,

"Please summon Deus."

Harry laughed heartily before kissing him hard,

"We're naked. Are you sure, you want him to see us like that? I don't know about you but I'm in no mood for Deus to gawk at you and get any ideas."

Slowly, he ran a hand over Voldemort's thigh and murmured,

"All this is for my eyes only."

Voldemort rested his hands on his shoulder and his forehead against his,

"It could be the other way around. He could lust after you…"

Harry laughed and shook his head,

"Who would lust after a dying guy?"

Voldemort's expression instantly grew severe,

"You are not dying, and you are the most stunning person in this entire world. People have no choice but to stop and stare when you pass them by."

Harry turned his head away and murmured,

"That's because they don't know the truth."

Voldemort gripped his chin and forced him to meet his gaze,

"Where is this coming from, Harry? What did Dumbledore say to you?"

Harry held his gaze and spoke,

"Nothing. He said nothing. I'm dying, Lover…and we don't have anything yet…"

Voldemort was about to speak when Harry clamped a hand over his mouth and spoke,

"No, listen to me. I want you to be prepared for any outcome. If I die…"

Voldemort pushed his hand away and Harry's heart broke at the sight of the tears that flowed down his cheeks,

"No…Harry... I implore you, please do not think like this."

Harry cupped his face and continued talking,

"You need to listen because this is my last will and testament. In the event of my demise, I want you to kill Dumbledore in the most painful way possible…"

He felt Voldemort's tears burning his skin and continued,

"I want you to torture him until he begs for death…I want you to avenge me…"

Voldemort rested his head on his chest and Harry stroked his hair softly,

"Everything that's mine will belong to you. I'll sign the written will as soon as Deus has it drawn up."

He entwined his fingers with Voldemort and whispered,

"I want you to bury me somewhere only you know. I don't want other people around my grave. Just you…"

Voldemort sobbed against his skin and Harry could feel his body trembling over his,

"I want you to love me forever, but I don't want you to shackle yourself with it. You have so much love to give. I'm sure you'll find so…"

Voldemort covered his mouth with his hand,

"No…You are the only one for me. There can never be anyone else."

Voldemort raised his head and Harry wiped his tears away before pushing away his hand,

"I'm not dead yet. Stop looking at me like that."

Voldemort ran a hand through his hair and murmured,

"You are not dying. This will is never going to be needed."

Harry snickered and reversed their positions so that Voldemort was laying on his back and he was over him,

"Mmmm…yeah. Life seems so tempting when you're under me."

Voldemort pulled his head down and claimed his lips in a demanding kiss. Harry parted his lips and Voldemort's tongue claimed every nook and crevice of his mouth. When they finally parted for breath, Harry crooned,

"Topping from the bottom…I absolutely adore it…"

Voldemort smiled and kissed him on the forehead,

"I live to please you, Love."


	103. Chapter 103

Harry leaned back in his seat and spoke,

"You're going to wear a hole in the floor if you keep up with your furious pacing."

Voldemort paused and stepped closer to him,

"Harry, I…"

The door opened, and Deus stepped in looking as timid and coy as ever. Harry crooked his finger at him and he stepped closer to the desk,

"Tell him all about what happened yesterday."

Deus looked at him for a moment and then asked uncertainly,

"Sir?"

Harry grinned,

"Yeah, all about Dumbledore's visit."

He knew Deus would get the point. Voldemort glared at Deus and barked,

"Well, get on with it."

Harry got up to his feet, pulled Voldemort down in the chair and then settled into his lap,

"There's no need to be so grumpy, Lover. You know Deus is very sensitive."

Voldemort grumbled,

"Yes, well, you should not have hired him then."

Harry pecked him on the cheek playfully,

"Don't be so harsh. Deus is the perfect assistant."

He turned to Deus and cooed,

"Don't let him bring you down. He's just in a terrible mood."

Deus started narrating yesterday's events and he watched as Voldemort listened avidly. All through it, he felt his grip tighten on him, as if he was afraid that Dumbledore would step through that door again and hurt him or steal him away. When Deus was done, Voldemort beckoned him closer,

"Show me your memories."

Harry knew that Deus could easily manipulate memories, so he wasn't really worried. He was about to get up from Voldemort's lap, but Voldemort wrapped an arm around his waist and inquired,

"Where do you think you're going?"

Harry smirked,

"I have work to do and you do too. You're back after so many days, I'm sure your death eaters are dying to meet you."

Voldemort held onto him tight and pulled him back to his chest,

"And what makes you think that I shall allow you to leave my sights?"

Harry ran his fingers through his hair,

"Because I know you won't deny me anything."

Voldemort rested his forehead against his,

"I can deny you this. I am allowed to be protective of you."

Harry clicked his tongue,

"You're allowed to be protective not overprotective."

Voldemort sighed and ran a thumb over his lips,

"I love you. Please just stay here in my arms. For my peace of mind…Please…"

Harry nodded softly and kissed him on the lips,

"I love you too and I will never deny you anything either."

Voldemort smirked, and Harry rested his head against his shoulder and summoned a file while Voldemort watched Deus's memories of yesterday. When Voldemort was done, Harry spoke,

"Get something to drink, Deus. You look pale as a ghost."

Deus settled down on the couch and downed the glass of water in one. When he looked better, Harry asked,

"What's on my agenda today?"

Deus conjured a folder and began going through it before asking,

"Now that the Dark Lord has returned, your schedule is empty, Sir."

Voldemort laughed softly and pressed a kiss to his head,

"That means that you have the entire day to rest."

Harry closed the file and spoke,

"I guess."

Deus conjured the envelope Dumbledore had left yesterday and offered it to Voldemort,

"I checked it for curses and other enchantments, My Lord. There was nothing."

Voldemort took the envelope and ran his own tests over it just to be sure. When Voldemort was done, Harry snatched it from his hands and opened it up to pull out a card. He read through it quickly and spoke,

"We're definitely going there tomorrow night."

Voldemort's hold on him turned almost painful and he gritted out,

"No, this has all the markings of a trap. You are not going anywhere near him…Not in your current condition. What makes it worse is that the old bastard knows all about it."

Harry cursed loudly and spoke,

"What do you mean by my current condition? I have cancer…it's not going to get any better…it can only get worse…"

He coughed, and Voldemort pulled him to his chest and rubbed his back gently,

"Harry, you have to understand that he can hurt you."

Harry pushed him away and got up to his feet,

"It's not like I'm asking you to let me go alone. You'll be with me. And I'm perfectly capable of protecting myself but, if for some reason I can't then you'll protect me, right? You said you would."

Voldemort got up to his feet and the defeat was evident from his crimson eyes,

"If I say yes, would you please relax."

Harry raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest,

"Say yes then. Say that you'll take me because I can't bear to let Dumbledore think that I'm terrified of him. I want to show him that I have you…that we're stronger together…that we'll defeat him together."

Voldemort pulled him into his arms and murmured against his ear,

"Yes, I shall take you to the ball tomorrow night."

Harry wrapped his arms around him,

"I love you so much…so bloody much…"

Voldemort ran his hands down his arms and whispered softly,

"I love you more. I worry about you…You need to let me take care of you."

Harry closed his eyes,

"I'm all yours."

He coughed again and fisted Voldemort's robes as his chest and stomach ached. He wanted to curl over and Voldemort must have read his thoughts because he was instantly pulling him down on the couch and laying him down. He curled up instantly to relieve some of the pain and felt Voldemort rubbing his back and pressing kisses against his head,

"Breathe, my Love…"

He realized that he wasn't breathing and struggled to get some air into his lungs. When he felt stable enough, he sat up straight and noticed how pale Voldemort and Deus looked,

"I'm…I'm okay…I'm breathing…"

Voldemort pulled him to his chest immediately. Harry looked at Deus and spoke,

"I want you to have my will drawn up today."

He sounded hoarse. He felt weak…exhausted...like he would fall asleep if he closed his eyes…That was definitely not a good sign,

"Take me to Rabastan's place."

He didn't know where the request came from but now that he had voiced it, he wanted it. Voldemort gathered him in his arms before picking him up and addressing Deus,

"Cancel everything."


	104. Chapter 104

Harry was laying on the bed with his head in Voldemort's lap. He was afraid to close his eyes but struggling not let his fear show. Voldemort was concerned about him enough already. He ran his gaze around the room and noticed the book shelf beside the vanity. How had he never seen it before? Maybe because every time his full attention had been on Rabastan. He missed his smiles, his warmth, his laughter and his concern. Voldemort wiped the tears away from his eyes and Harry spoke,

"Read to me."

He watched as Voldemort followed his gaze and looked at the book shelf. He pressed a kiss to his forehead as he summoned the books to himself and asked,

"What would like to listen to?"

Voldemort began rattling off the titles and Harry stopped him,

"That one…Tales of beetle the whatever…"

Voldemort frowned as he picked up the book from the stack and opened it,

"Have you read it before?"

Voldemort shook his head with a chuckle,

"It's The Tales of Beedle The Bard. These are children stories. Are you sure you want to listen to them?"

Harry laughed and nodded,

"Yes, I do. So, are these like the magical versions of muggle fairy tales?"

Voldemort flipped through the pages and then spoke,

"Yes. They are."

Harry nuzzled his head in Voldemort's lap,

"Read, Lover."

Voldemort started reading to him. The first one was the story of Babbitty Rabbitty and her Cackling Stump. Voldemort read with so much conviction, he even changed his voice for all the different characters. When Voldemort finished the story, Harry couldn't help but pull him down and kiss him,

"I love you."

Voldemort smiled and caressed his cheek,

"I love you too. Ready for another one or do you want to rest?"

Harry shook his head,

"No, I want to listen to all of them."

Voldemort kissed his forehead and started reading the next one. The Fountain of Fair Fortune. Voldemort sounded just as intrigued as he felt. It saddened him a bit. These were children's tale. They were meant to be read to children but Voldemort and him had been brought up by muggles in environments that were far from ideal for children. But, he was glad that they'd gotten a chance to discover these tales together. Voldemort continued to read the next two tales, The Wizard and the Hopping Pot and The Warlock's Hairy Heart.

He was saddened by the ending of The Warlock's Hairy Heart and Voldemort seemed just as gloomy. It was dark. Why had they ever put a story like that in a children's book? Harry raised his hand up and stroked Voldemort's chin,

"Would you have still created the horcruxes if you'd heard this story before?"

Voldemort bent down and kissed his head,

"The past is in the past. You are my heart now. You have taught me how to feel again. You are my love. You are my life, and this is why I am not allowing you to create horcruxes."

Harry closed his eyes,

"I know…I don't want horcruxes."

Voldemort set the book down and spoke,

"You need to eat something and take your potion before I read the last one to you."

Harry groaned and covered his eyes with his forearm,

"Do I have to?"

Voldemort nodded,

"Now what do you want to eat?"

Harry rolled on his side,

"Nothing. I feel sick."

He felt Voldemort's fingers smooth through his hair,

"Harry, you must eat."

It was so difficult to keep food down these days but he knew that he had to eat to keep up his strength otherwise he'd wind up in bed. Voldemort pulled him up into a sitting position and conjured a tray that was laden with a plate of sandwiches and a pitcher of pumpkin juice. Voldemort picked one up and held it to his lips. Harry took a small bite, chewed on it and swallowed it. A wave of nausea swept through him but he willed himself to fight it. Voldemort instantly poured a glass of pumpkin juice and held it to his lips. He took a sip and instantly felt better.

He managed to get down half of the sandwich and the entire glass of juice which was quite the achievement. Voldemort vanished the tray and held the flask of potion to his lips. He downed it with a grimace and Voldemort gave him a pleased smile before kissing his cheek and vanishing the flask,

"I should find more tales like these so that you may eat like this every day."

Harry couldn't help but laugh at that. He rested his head on his shoulder and spoke,

"Read the last one. I can't wait."

Voldemort picked up the book again and flipped to where the story was starting. A curious symbol headed the top of the page and Harry felt like he'd seen it before. Voldemort started reading and he put it to the back of his mind,

"There were once three brothers who were travelling along a lonely, winding road at twilight. In time, the brothers reached a river too deep to wade through and too dangerous to swim across. However, these brothers were learned in the magical arts, and so they simply waved their wands and made a bridge appear across the treacherous water. They were halfway across it when they found their path blocked by a hooded figure. And Death spoke to them…"

Harry couldn't help but speak,

"That's not an apt description of death. Death is a shadow with black wings."

Voldemort wrapped an arm across his shoulder and kissed his temple,

"Harry, this is just a fairy tale."

Harry snorted and nodded,

"Go on."

Voldemort started reading again,

"And Death spoke to them. He was angry that he had been cheated out of three new victims, for travellers usually drowned in the river. But Death was cunning. He pretended to congratulate the three brothers upon their magic and said that each had earned a prize for having been clever enough to evade him.

So, the oldest brother, who was a combative man, asked for a wand more powerful than any in existence: a wand that must always win duels for its owner, a wand worthy of a wizard who had conquered Death! So, Death crossed to an elder tree on the banks of the river, fashioned a wand from a branch that hung there, and gave it to the oldest brother.

Then the second brother, who was an arrogant man, decided that he wanted to humiliate Death still further, and asked for the power to recall others from Death. So, Death picked up a stone from the riverbank and gave it to the second brother and told him that the stone would have the power to bring back the dead.

And then Death asked the third and youngest brother what he would like. The youngest brother was the humblest and also the wisest of the brothers, and he did not trust Death. So, he asked for something that would enable him to go forth from that place without being followed by Death. And Death, most unwillingly, handed over his own Cloak of Invisibility."

Harry frowned,

"Death had a cloak of invisibility?"

Voldemort shrugged,

"It is just a fable. Anything is possible."

Harry buried his head in the crook of Voldemort's neck,

"Go on."

Voldemort started talking again,

"Then Death stood aside and allowed the three brothers to continue their way and they did so, talking with wonder of the adventure they had had, and admiring Death's gifts.

In due course the brothers separated, each for his own destination. The first brother travelled on for a week or more, and reaching a distant village, sought out a fellow wizard with whom he had a quarrel. Naturally, with the Elder Wand as his weapon, he could not fail to win the duel that followed. Leaving his enemy dead upon the floor, the oldest brother proceeded to an inn, where he boasted loudly of the powerful wand he had snatched from Death himself, and of how it made him invincible. That very night, another wizard crept upon the oldest brother as he lay, wine-sodden, upon his bed. The thief took the wand and, for good measure, slit the oldest brother's throat. And, so, Death took the first brother for his own.

Meanwhile, the second brother journeyed to his own home, where he lived alone. Here he took out the stone that had the power to recall the dead and turned it thrice in his hand. To his amazement and his delight, the figure of the girl he had once hoped to marry before her untimely death, appeared at once before him. Yet she was sad and cold, separated from him as by a veil. Though she had returned to the mortal world, she did not truly belong there and suffered. Finally, the second brother, driven mad with hopeless longing, killed himself so as truly to join her. And so, Death took the second brother for his own.

But though Death searched for the third brother for many years, he was never able to find him. It was only when he had attained a great age that the youngest brother finally took off the Cloak of Invisibility and gave it to his son. And then he greeted Death as an old friend, and went with him gladly, and, equals, they departed this life."

He took the book from Voldemort's hand and looked at the symbol again. Trying to remember where he'd seen it before and then it hit him. He raised his hand and looked at the ring on his finger closely. There it was…the symbol on the stone…

"What is this symbol?"

Voldemort took his hand in his and stared between the ring and the symbol on the page,

"I…I have no clue."

Harry pulled the ring off his finger and spoke,

"Could it be the resurrection stone?"

Voldemort shook his head,

"Harry…that was not real."

But there was no conviction in his tone and Harry knew that he was just as eager as him to test the theory. But, Harry didn't want to call Rabastan or anyone else from the dead because of the example of the second brother. He pulled the ring back on and inquired,

"Where is my invisibility cloak?"

Voldemort smiled,

"I shall give it to you if you promise not to vanish."

Harry laughed,

"Never."

Voldemort conjured his invisibility cloak and Harry immediately held the shimmering material to his chest,

"I missed it so much."

Voldemort kissed his forehead,

"I enjoy seeing you happy."

Harry rested his forehead against his,

"We need to find out more about this symbol. I have a feeling we're onto something."

Voldemort ran his hand through his hair,

"Harry, I will research it but you must not…"

Harry clamped a hand over his mouth,

"Don't tell me not to get excited. You have no idea how fast my heart is beating right now and how right this feels."


	105. Chapter 105

"I want to go shopping, Lover."

Voldemort choked on his tea and instantly started coughing. Harry handed him a napkin and waited for him to get a hold of himself before repeating,

"I want to go shopping."

Voldemort wiped his face with the napkin before proceeding to clean his robes,

"Harry…That's just not possible. You're not…"

Harry leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest,

"I'm not what?"

Voldemort set the handkerchief down and sighed before speaking,

"You are not fine. You require rest and relaxation."

Harry grinned cockily.

"You just said it yourself. Relaxation…I need relaxation and I find shopping very relaxing."

He couldn't help but laugh when Voldemort scowled at him,

"No, Harry. Absolutely not."

Harry held Voldemort's gaze for a minute but when Voldemort didn't yield, he threw his hands up in the air in defeat and rose from the table,

"Fine, I'll go dressed in rags tonight."

He saw the way, Voldemort mouth twitched as if to smile and it was way too obvious how hard he was trying not to laugh. The fondness and affection in his crimson eyes was enough to warm him to the core but he didn't want to give up that easily. He walked away from the table and stood by the window that overlooked the garden.

Soon enough, he felt Voldemort's arm wrap around his waist and bit his tongue to hold back the moan that threatened to escape as Voldemort pushed his hair away from his nape and kissed it,

"I am absolutely certain that you would look stunning in rags."

He was about to speak when Voldemort nipped him on the sensitive spot behind the ear and his words were replaced by a soft moan. He couldn't help but lean back against Voldemort's solid chest,

"This isn't fair."

Voldemort tightened his hold around his waist and chuckled,

"Should I take that as your statement of surrender?"

Harry shook his head but made no move to pull away,

"You know that I never surrender."

He felt Voldemort rest his forehead against the back of his head,

"I never wish for you to. You are a fighter, Harry. Just keep fighting."

Harry held Voldemort's hand in his and kissed it,

"I won't. I have too much at stake here."

Voldemort was silent for a moment and then he spoke,

"I shall take you shopping…"

Harry groaned,

"I sense a but there somewhere."

Voldemort turned him around and he immediately knew he was right. There was wicked grin on his face,

"But…you must come to the hospital with me tomorrow."

Harry closed his eyes and rested his forehead against Voldemort's,

"I told you I don't want to go. They can't do anything for me."

Voldemort pulled him close and spoke,

"Harry, there is no harm in giving it a try. He is quite accomplished. I have done my research on him and he has successfully cured many people."

He buried his face in Voldemort's shoulder and Voldemort hugged him closer,

"Please, Harry…"

Harry could only nod. He understood Voldemort's pain…understood his need to do something…anything to console himself. Voldemort was looking for hope where there was none but he couldn't begrudge him that. If this gave him some peace of mind then he would gladly comply,

"I'll go with you tomorrow."

Voldemort only held him tighter and Harry wished he could stay in these arms forever. He didn't want to be away from Voldemort. Voldemort pulled away from him and looked him in the eyes,

"Promise me…"

Harry hitched up a grin to lighten the mood,

"You definitely need to trust me more."

Voldemort cupped his cheek,

"I trust you with my life."

Harry leaned back against the wall and pulled Voldemort closer,

"I promise I'll go to the hospital with you tomorrow."

Voldemort's lips swooped down over his, and he kissed him soft and gentle. His tongue moved over the seam of his lips, demanding entry. Harry parted his lips and it immediately moved in and dominated his mouth. Harry wrapped his arms around Voldemort's neck and pulled him closer. He needed more…so much more…An eternity wasn't enough to soak up all the love that Voldemort exuded for him…All the time in the world wouldn't be enough…

When they finally parted, Voldemort licked his kiss swollen lips and reached forward and smoothed his hair,

"We can go as soon as you finish your breakfast and take your potion."

Harry turned to look at the table and grimaced at the flask before nodding. He tried his best to finish his fruit salad but failed. By the time, he downed his potion, he was feeling incredibly nauseated. Voldemort led him out into the gardens for fresh air and waited for his stomach to settle down.

He had his head rested on Voldemort's shoulder as he curled up and clutched his stomach,

"Harry…"

Harry ground his teeth and snapped,

"No…No, don't tell me that I'm not fine."

Voldemort didn't say anything, but Harry could feel the concern he was radiating. It took a couple of minutes for his condition to stabilize and when he was feeling better, he spoke,

"Can we go now?"

Once again, Voldemort remained silent but nodded. It bothered him. His silence bothered him. Harry got up to his feet and looked at Voldemort, who had his head bowed. He rested his finger under his chin and tipped his head back. A mixture of fear and concern was etched in every line of Voldemort's face, it was visible in his eyes. Harry's heart shattered in a million tiny shards at the sight and he was willing to do whatever it took to make him again and ease his strain,

"I'm going to go and rest."

He was about to walk back inside the castle when Voldemort gripped his wrist and pulled him to his chest,

"You need to understand that I will do anything you want, Love. I need to see you happy and well…I need to see you full of life."

Harry closed his eyes and buried his face in his shoulder,

"I know you will. You don't have to assure me of your sincerity. I trust you, Lover. You're the only one I trust to keep me happy."

Voldemort pulled him up into his arms and Harry couldn't help but yelp. Voldemort laughed and pressed a kiss to his forehead,

"We shall go shopping but you shall not put a toe on the ground."

Harry couldn't help but giggle and wrapped his arms around Voldemort's neck,

"I love you…I love you…I love you so much."


	106. Chapter 106

Harry leaned back against the headboard and stared at all the clothes Voldemort had bought him. He had been true to his word and hadn't let him down from his arms once. It had been utterly ridiculous but so beautiful. They had garnered so much attention and countless times he'd felt that pang of jealousy as men and women alike had looked at Voldemort with longing and desire. He coughed and Voldemort stirred, fear and concern instantly taking over his relaxed features. Even in his sleep, he didn't stop worrying about him and that tore him up. He laid down beside him and snuggled into his arms. Voldemort's features instantly relaxed again as he pulled him closer. He stroked his hair gently and breathed in his familiar scent.

He had to break the pact he'd made with Deus. He just had to break it somehow. Voldemort would remain miserable for the rest of his life if he died without breaking it. He raised his head up and looked at the clock. They still had three hours before the ball. It was good that Voldemort was resting before it. Harry knew he never slept at night. And he must have been exhausted by carrying him around all day.

Tomorrow, he'd have to go through all those tests and scans again. It was extremely pointless, but he knew he'd have to go through them for Voldemort's peace of mind. He loved him. He'd do anything for him

He must have dozed off because when he woke up, Voldemort wasn't laying beside him. He pushed himself into a sitting position and found him standing by the window, dressed in the wine-coloured dress robes he'd picked out for him. A black gothic pattern was embroidered all over the hem. Voldemort had paired it off with a black silk shirt and black form fitting pants. He looked absolutely beautiful.

Voldemort turned around and Harry realized that he'd been frowning. He schooled his features and smiled gently but Harry had already seen the worry,

"You're awake."

Harry nodded and rose to his feet before making his way to Voldemort. He ran his fingers through his hair and pressed a kiss to his lips,

"You look stunning."

Voldemort stroked his back and hummed in delight against his lips. When they parted, Voldemort spoke,

"Have you looked at the time?"

Harry shook his head and then turned around to look at the clock before cursing,

"We're already late. Why didn't you wake me?"

He didn't wait for Voldemort to reply though and rushed straight to the bathroom to take a quick shower. When he emerged, Voldemort dried him off with a wave of his wand. Harry pulled on his briefs and then his skin tight black jeans. Voldemort pulled the wine-coloured silk shirt over his shoulders and then began buttoning it up. Harry left it half untucked and pulled out the locket to put it on display. Voldemort sat him down and then pulled the black dragon hide boots over his feet before lacing them up. When he was done with that, Harry got up and Voldemort began attempting to straighten out his rebellious locks. Harry couldn't help but laugh when he failed. Voldemort smiled and kissed his forehead,

"You look absolutely gorgeous. But I have several reservations on the tightness of your jeans."

Harry grinned and tipped his head back,

"You know it's all part of my evil plan to keep you in possessive mode all night. I'm in even counting on you tearing off some heads. Oh, and it'll be so much fun when you'll have to strip them off me tonight without any magic."

Voldemort smirked and took his arm in a firm but gentle hold,

"You are pure sin."

Harry leaned into his shoulder,

"And you love that about me."

Voldemort chuckled before apparating,

"I love everything about you."

The fundraising ball was happening in the great hall and he felt slightly nostalgic as he walked through the door. He had felt so at home here once. Dumbledore had ruined all of that. This was the first time, he'd stepped back into the castle after the torture Dumbledore had inflicted on him. The sound of the whip cracking and his own screams drowned out the music and for a moment, he felt that agonizing, stinging pain cut across his back,

"Harry…Harry…"

He blinked and realized that he'd sagged against Voldemort's shoulder and Voldemort's arm around his waist was the only thing keeping him standing,

"Harry, we can leave now…"

Harry shook his head and straightened up,

"I'm fine. It was just a…"

Dumbledore's hateful voice piped up,

"A memory…a flashback…"

Harry felt Voldemort pull him closer to his side. The murderous intent was pouring off him in thick, heavy waves. Harry hitched up a grin and spoke,

"Exactly, I was having a flashback of how you failed to killed me."

Dumbledore's smile fell and he whispered in a serious tone,

"I can assure you that you will be so lucky the next time."

Voldemort practically growled and Dumbledore smiled,

"Do you know that Harry is terminally ill. He does not have long to live. It saddens me that you have such a brief period of time to spend with him."

Voldemort looked ready enough to throttle Dumbledore with his bare hands. Harry steered him away,

"Let's be civil tonight. We'll see you around."

Voldemort murmured,

"I want to kill him now."

Harry kept a tight hold on his arm,

"You're the Minister of Magic. You can't kill him…not here…not in front of so many witnesses who still worship him."

Voldemort gnashed his teeth,

"He had the nerve to threaten you..."

Harry took his hand and kissed his knuckles,

"We'll make him pay for everything."

Voldemort grumbled something but then smiled when he did,

"Let's enjoy our night and make that old man burn."

Voldemort grinned and pulled him close,

"Lets."


	107. Chapter 107

The room was beautiful, the flowers fresh, perfumed. There was a view of the mountains and outside the garden was perfection. It was different than all the other hospitals he'd been to. Harry eased himself into the soft chair and Tom sat at his side, quietly holding his hand.

Harry stared at the three-tiered rectangular serving platter filled with cupcakes with colourful frostings. He asked,

"Did they put that there to offend the patients? I'm pretty sure that everyone who comes here can't eat those."

When Voldemort didn't reply, he turned to look at him and saw an expression of utmost worry on his face. Harry snapped his fingers and he blinked before focusing on him. It was a little odd to see him with brown eyes rather than crimson, but he understood that it was necessary. The muggles doctors would seriously freak out if they saw Voldemort's crimson eyes,

"Were you saying something?"

Harry shook his head and closed his eyes,

"You really need to stop worrying."

Voldemort squeezed his hand,

"How do you expect me to stop worrying when my entire world seems like it is on the brink of destruction?"

Harry opened his eyes and sighed,

"You're being over dramatic."

Voldemort was about to speak again when the sound of the door opening made them both look towards it. A tall, aged man stepped in, dressed in a pair of khakis and a black button up. He was holding a and greeted Voldemort,

"Mr. Riddle. So, you've decided to consult with me after all."

Harry saw Voldemort smile but it was extremely fake. The doctor turned to him and spoke,

"And you must be Mr. Potter."

He extended his hand and Harry shook it with a nod,

"Yes, the one and only."

The doctor smiled as he settled down in the seat opposite them,

"My name is Dr. Emanuel Rivera. Your spouse must have told you about me."

Harry nodded and spoke,

"Yes. He has high hopes that you can cure me."

Emanuel regarded him critically,

"What about your hopes, Mr. Potter?"

Harry leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest,

"Call me, Harry. His hopes are my hopes."

Emanuel leaned forward in his seat, but Harry didn't miss the tension in his tone. That meant bad news and he didn't want Voldemort to hear that,

"I was studying your file last night, Harry, and I believe that we should talk in private."

Harry internally sighed out in relief and spoke,

"Sure."

Voldemort looked at him sternly and spoke,

"You can say whatever you want with me present in the room."

Emanuel smiled and spoke,

"Mr. Riddle, there are some things that I can only discuss with Harry."

Voldemort looked angry, but he stepped out of the room nonetheless. Harry cast a quick sound barrier, straightened up in his chair and spoke,

"Don't you dare tell him anything that will disturb him any more than he already is."

Emanuel raised an eyebrow and spoke,

"You have refused to undergo chemotherapy twice now. Can I know why?"

Harry closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat,

"No, I don't want to go through chemotherapy because I know what it's going to do to me. I'll be trapped in a bed between four walls, with pain medication twenty-four seven until I die. I'd rather spend that time on my feet."

Emanuel spoke softly,

"You're not doing your spouse any favours by keeping him in the dark."

Harry sighed,

"I'm not keeping him in the dark. He knows it…He's just not ready to give up."

Emanuel looked at him sadly,

"Have you given up?"

Harry couldn't help but chuckle at that,

"I wouldn't be sitting here if I'd given up."

Emanuel smiled,

"Yes, your case history states that you're quite the fighter."

Harry rose to his feet and spoke,

"All I'm asking is that you don't tell him anything disturbing. Give him hope. Run as many tests and scans on me as you want. Prescribe as many pills as you can. Tell him that I'll get better. I want you to tell him that I'm already recovering."

Emanuel stared at him wide eyed before schooling his features,

"As a doctor, it is my responsibility to be honest."

Harry stepped closer to him and glared at him,

"As a doctor, it's your responsibility to give hope."

Emanuel dropped his gaze and clasped his fingers together,

"Call your spouse in."

Harry scowled at him before going to the door and opening it. Voldemort all but ran back into the room,

"Take a seat, Mr. Riddle."

Harry walked to the window and stared out at the view as Emanuel started talking,

"We were just discussing which tests Harry was willing to undergo and if he was prepared to go through a clinical trial for a new drug that is being introduced."

He sighed out in relief. Harry coughed and Voldemort was there immediately. He pulled him back to the seat, sat own and pulled him in his lap. Harry instantly wrapped his arms around him and Voldemort inquired,

"What have you decided, Harry?"

Harry pressed a kiss to Voldemort's cheeks and spoke,

"I'll try whatever they have to offer."

Voldemort smiled, and Harry saw the relief in his eyes. He smiled in return and cupped his cheek,

"Now will you please stop worrying?"

Voldemort shook his head and Harry frowned,

"I will not stop worrying about you until you have fully recovered."

Harry rested his head against Voldemort's chest and looked at Emanuel,

"How soon can you start? How long will it take?"

Emanuel looked at him and spoke,

"We can get you a room now. You will have to stay here until we run the scans on you and receive the results. As for the clinical trials, you will have to take your pills regularly and check into the hospital once every week."

Harry nodded and spoke,

"Let's get started then."

Emanuel rose to his feet,

"I'll send a nurse with the paperwork."


	108. Chapter 108

"I wanna go home…I wanna go home…TAKE ME HOME!"

He couldn't bear it. Harry's slurred pleas were like daggers to his already lacerated heart. He held on to him tight and kissed his head,

"It shall be alright. You are going to be fine, Harry…You are going to be alright and then I will take you home. I promise I will take you home."

Harry screamed again and there was no doubting how much agony he was in. Emanuel had already increased the morphine and Harry was gradually slipping deeper unconscious. In a few minutes, he had grown so still in his arms that he began to fear the worse. Emanuel spoke up,

"He will be fine. He's strong willed and very tenacious. He'll make it."

He pushed back a few stray locks away from Harry's pale forehead and kissed it,

"He will make it. I'm sure he will."

Harry had been having those pain attacks ever since last night. He hadn't opened his eyes for the past fifteen hours and he was aching to see those gorgeous green eyes again. Harry's lips were nearly colourless, his skin seemed nearly translucent, he seemed like a ghost, ready to fade away. He drew in a deep breath and fought back tears. He would give anything to see Harry happy and healthy again. He was willing to sacrifice anything to save him.

A very distressed looking Deus stepped into the room. He watched the way all the remaining colour drained from his cheeks at the sight of Harry's senseless form in his arms,

"What…What happened to him?"

Emanuel walked out of the room and he spoke,

"He is fine. He will be fine…"

Deus came to stand beside the bed and touched Harry's cheek. Harry's breath hitched as a black shadow moved from where Deus's finger was in contact with his skin,

"Stop it!"

He was about to shove Deus away but Deus shook his head and suddenly there was a black barrier between him and where Harry lay on the bed with Deus's finger pressed to his cheek,

"STOP IT! I WILL KILL YOU…YOU BLOODY BASTARD…I WILL KILL YOU!"

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Deus pulled away his finger and the barrier vanished. There was a defeated look in his eyes as he took a step away from the bed. He pulled Harry back into his arms and showered him in kisses. He noticed that Harry's cheeks had regained a healthy pallor. His lips were rosy red now and there was something peaceful about his expression. He looked asleep rather than…

"It won't last…"

He looked up at Deus and noticed the tears in his eyes,

"It won't last…He's too weak…"

He buried his face in Harry's hair and breathed in his scent. He had to live. Harry had to live. He couldn't die…He wouldn't let him…

He pulled away from Harry and looked at Deus,

"Who are you really?"

Deus's soft features, twisted and contorted into something inhuman. When he spoke, his voice was like nails on a chalk board,

"Asmodeus."

He looked from him to Harry and back again. A lot of things started to make sense. The peculiar magic Harry had learnt along with a lot of tiny things that he had noticed but never voiced. Deus spoke again in that unpleasant voice,

"He loves you more than anything else."

He already knew that. Tears continued to flow and Deus spoke,

"He definitely wouldn't like the way you're crying."

Harry murmured groggily against his neck,

"Is that Deus?"

He pulled away and looked down at Harry. His eyes were still closed but he was holding his robes in a death grip,

"Yes, it is Deus."

A small smile curved Harry's lips and lit up his face,

"I hate that voice of his.

He kissed Harry's lips gently and Harry mumbled,

"I love you."

He pulled Harry closer and spoke,

"I love you too, Harry."

Harry was silent for a moment then and just when he began to think that he'd fallen asleep, he spoke in a low, hoarse voice,

"I need to talk to Deus alone, please."

Harry finally opened his eyes and he met his gaze. He could only manage a nod and stepped out of the room. All he could feel at the moment was relief that Harry had awoken. He slumped against the wall and buried his face in his hands. What was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to save him? In all his life, he'd never felt this helpless and desperate. He had never imagined that a muggle ailment would be the one to bring him to his knees.

* * *

The pain came and went in waves. His head felt heavy from all the painkillers that were probably running through his system. He was about to move his arm to signal Deus to come closer but Deus was already there, stilling his arm and leaning over him,

"I asked you to draft my will."

Deus nodded and with a snap of his fingers conjured the sheaf of parchments,

"You need to sign it."

Harry read through the terms and then demanded the quill. Moving his arm was the hardest thing to do but he did it. He signed wherever was necessary and then when Deus had vanished the papers, he spoke,

"I need another blank parchment."

Deus obeyed quickly and Harry drew a rough outline of the symbol on it,

"I want you to find out what this is."

Deus looked at it intently and then nodded his head,

"I will."

He took a deep breath and spoke,

"I was awake when you told Voldemort who you were. Does that break the pact?"

Deus smiled softly and patted him on the cheek as his features turned back human,

"Yes, it does. It's broken."

Harry couldn't help but sigh out in relief,

"I have something for you."

Deus caressed his cheek and he continued,

"At Malfoy Manor, in the room that I stayed in, there's a feather underneath the mattress…death's feather…"

Harry saw the way Deus's eyebrows shot up,

"How did you procure that?"

Harry couldn't help but laugh but he had to stop when that agonizing pain flared up in his chest and stomach again. It took a moment for it to fade back to tolerable levels and he spoke,

"I plucked it off."

Deus ran his fingers through his hair and spoke,

"You're the bravest person I've ever known. Just a bit more…You need to be brave a bit more, Mon Ravissement."

He could only nod as his eyelids grew heavy again,

"Just rest. You need to rest. I'll let your lover back into the room. He must be getting anxious."

He smiled. Yes, Voldemort was probably more anxious than ever right now. He heard the door open and Voldemort was holding him tight instantly. He nuzzled his head into Voldemort's warmth as he slipped back into the drug induced, painless oblivion.


	109. Chapter 109

Harry was in the middle of studying the file when Voldemort spoke,

"How are you feeling."

He looked up from the file and stared at Voldemort seated behind the desk,

"How do I look?"

Voldemort smiled and twirled the quill between his fingers,

"You look mine."

Harry smiled softly and stretched out on the couch,

"I'm all yours."

There was a knock on the door and he went back to studying the file as Voldemort dealt with the death eater,

"They're expecting you in courtroom seven, My Lord."

Harry asked without looking up from the file,

"What's in courtroom seven?"

The death eater replied,

"A hearing for the appeal that the order filed against imprisonment."

Harry looked at the death eater,

"How did they file an appeal when the conviction was non-appealable."

The death eater bowed his head,

"The Wizengamot allowed it."

Voldemort dismissed the death eater, rose to his feet and came to sit beside him. He pulled his head in his lap and pressed a kiss to his forehead,

"Whatever you want will happen, Love."

Harry closed the file and gazed up into Voldemort's crimson eyes,

"I'm not sure about what I want."

Voldemort smiled softly and pressed a kiss to his lips,

"Why don't you decide on the way?"

Harry smiled against Voldemort's lips,

"That sounds like a good idea."

Voldemort rose to his feet and was about to pull him up into his arms when Harry shook his head,

"I can walk, Lover… I want to walk."

Voldemort sighed and offered his hand. He took it and pulled himself to his feet. His head spun a bit and his legs trembled but he managed to stay on his feet. Voldemort wrapped an arm around his waist,

"I really wish that you would just rest."

Harry laughed,

"You know perfectly well why I'm here. You stop caring about the ministry when you're at home with me and that's not acceptable at all. Look at what the Wizengamot did while we were away. If we'd stayed away another day or two, I'm sure they would have invited Dumbledore to take over."

Voldemort led him into the elevator and Harry leaned back against the back wall as he struggled to catch his breath. He bent over and coughed, and Voldemort was holding him immediately,

"Harry, power is irrelevant in comparison to your health."

Harry pulled away from him and laughed breathlessly,

"If the Voldemort from a few months ago heard you now, he'd be so disappointed."

Voldemort smiled and shook his head,

"I'm proud of the changes you've brought on in me. I never thought I could ever feel complete again but with you I do. I never thought that my life was missing so many things until I got to know you."

Harry blinked back tears,

"Now, you're making me cry."

Voldemort cupped his face,

"I could never dream of that."

Harry rested his head against his chest,

"I love you."

Just at that moment, the elevator door opened and cameras flashed. He was about to pull away but Voldemort held onto him tight,

"I love you too."

They stepped out of the elevator and several questions were fired their way all at once. Several of them were about his illness. It seemed Dumbledore had been hard at work in their absence. Harry felt the way Voldemort tensed beside him at the questions and then spoke,

"There is nothing wrong with Harry's health. Surely, you have all been misled."

The next question was about the increased chances of Dumbledore taking over and Harry answered that,

"All of you need to check where you're getting your information from because your source is seriously messed up."

Together they answered all the questions and just when they were about to walk towards the courtroom, a reporter asked,

"You've been engaged for more than a month now. When can we expect the grand wedding?"

Harry ducked his head and snickered at that. They were practically married now. He'd never considered a proper wedding but maybe that was something they should think about. Harry felt himself being pulled tight to Voldemort's side and Voldemort spoke,

"We shall announce it very soon."

Harry couldn't help but smile at that. It gave him one more thing to look forward to…one more thing, worth living for…He cupped his hands over his mouth and coughed. Voldemort's concern was audible in his voice when he thanked the reporters and began leading him to the courtroom. They stepped in and Harry felt Voldemort tense up next to him at the sight of Dumbledore seated on one of the benches. His happiness from a moment earlier evaporated and was instantly replaced by anger. Voldemort began leading him towards their respective seats on the highest bench.

Harry sat down and coughed again. Harry saw the way Voldemort flinched every time he coughed. It was almost as if he felt his pain. He rested his head against the desk and tried to stifle it but it was getting worse and he realized that he couldn't breathe. His stomach and chest ached like hell and he clutched it. Voldemort held him and rubbed soothing circles on his back as he urged him to keep breathing. It took him everything he had in him to draw air into his aching lungs. Voldemort forced a flask to his lips and he forced it down with sheer will. He hated what Dumbledore's presence did to him. It took a few minutes for him to gather himself. Voldemort spoke,

"I'm taking you home now."

Harry shook his head as he straightened up,

"I'm not going anywhere."

Voldemort cupped his cheek and wiped away the trickle of blood running down the corner of his mouth. The anger was evident in his voice and his crimson eyes,

"Don't be stubborn now…not when it comes to your well being…"

He leaned back in his seat and smirked,

"Stubborn is my middle name."

Voldemort looked on the verge of tears and Harry cupped his face,

"I'm fine, Lover."

Voldemort held up the handkerchief he'd been using to wipe his chin clean and spoke,

"Look at this, Harry. This isn't fine."

Harry snatched the handkerchief from his hand and spoke,

"I'm fine. Can we start the hearing now?"

Voldemort sighed but he looked like he'd accepted defeat. He ran a rage filled gaze around the courtroom at the Wizengamot and everyone else who'd been staring at them before commencing the hearing.


	110. Chapter 110

Harry lay curled up in bed with Voldemort's arm draped around his waist and his chest pressed to his back,

"Harry..."

Harry turned around and rested his forehead against Voldemort's,

"I'm trying…I'm trying so hard…It's not working…I can't sleep…"

Voldemort pulled him closer to his chest and rubbed his back gently,

"Relax…Harry, close your eyes and trust me…"

He did and Voldemort pressed a kiss to his head and continued to rub soothing circles on his back. He felt Voldemort's gentle touches and his soothing words slowly taking away the pain and lulling him to sleep. He was halfway asleep when a knock on the door brought him back to alertness and he opened his eyes and blinked. Voldemort's face was contorted in an expression of utmost rage. Harry was about to sit up straight when Voldemort pressed a kiss to his forehead and stopped him,

"Just lay down. It's probably your precious Deus. I wonder what he wants at this ungodly hour."

Harry laughed but had to stop because his chest ached,

"You're jealous of him."

Voldemort smiled sadly and pushed his hair away from his face gently,

"No, Love. I know you are mine and mine alone."

There was another knock on the door and Voldemort sighed,

"He really is tenacious."

Harry nuzzled his head in the pillow,

"At least, he's got some etiquette. He could have appeared directly in the room if he'd wanted to."

Voldemort stroked his cheek and shouted,

"COME IN!"

Deus stepped into the room and Harry saw the way Voldemort glared at him,

"Do you know how difficult it is to get him to sleep. He was half asleep when you woke him up…"

Deus looked apologetic but the smile on his face told him that he had something. Harry pushed himself up into a sitting position and cried out as every cell in his screamed with pain. Voldemort was clutching him in an instant and lowering him back on the mattress,

"Harry, why must you torment yourself and me needlessly?"

Harry looked over his back at Deus and spoke,

"You found something, didn't you?"

Deus nodded, and Harry couldn't help but smile. Voldemort traced his lips gently and Harry moved his gaze away from Deus to him. There was an unfathomable amount of love in Voldemort's crimson gaze and Harry spoke softly,

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

Voldemort shook his head and spoke,

"I just adore your smile."

He cupped Voldemort's cheek and spoke gently,

"I'll smile for you all the time when this is over."

He turned to Deus,

"Sit down and tell me what you found."

Deus conjured a chair for himself and settled down,

"That symbol you drew for me…that's the symbol of the deathly hallows."

Harry was bursting with hope and curiosity and he spoke,

"The deathly hallows? What are they and how can they help us?"

Deus leaned back in the chair,

"Have you read that story about the brothers that encountered death?"

Harry nodded and pulled Voldemort closer to him,

"Yeah, we've read it. That's where he found the symbol."

Deus moved his finger through the air and drew a vertical line with black smoke,

"The Elder Wand."

He then added a circle on top of the line,

"The Resurrection Stone."

Deus finished the symbol by enclosing both line and circle in a triangle,

"The Cloak of Invisibility."

Harry stared at the finished symbol mesmerized and Deus spoke,

"Together, they're the Deathly Hallows."

It was Voldemort that asked,

"Do they actually exist?"

Deus nodded,

"Yes. These objects were created by Death and given to each of three brothers in the Peverell family."

Voldemort traced his spine subconsciously as he asked,

"How can they help us and where are they now?"

A sly grin curved Deus's lips as he spoke,

"According to legend, he who possesses these three artefacts would become the Master of Death and will be invincible."

Harry gasped excitedly, and he felt the Voldemort's arm tightened around his waist,

"You're not telling us about their whereabouts."

Deus's grin grew wickeder.

"I've searched for them and it has come to my knowledge that you might already be in possession of two of the hallows. Fate has decided to favour you in this matter because Harry and you are the direct descendants of the Peverell brothers. Harry's a descendant of the third Peverell brother…Ignotus Peverell…the one who received the invisibility cloak from death. And you…you are the direct descendant of the second Peverell Brother…Cadmus Peverell…The one who received the stone of resurrection…Both of you are official owners of the Hallows and I'm certain you're already in possession of them."

Harry raised his hand and looked at the ring on his finger,

"Yes…we do have two of them. Now where's the third one…the wand…"

A crease marred Deus's forehead and he spoke in a low vehement voice,

"Dumbledore."

Voldemort's jaw clenched, and Harry spoke gently,

"Dumbledore…It just had to be him."

Voldemort stroked his hair gently and spoke,

"Are you absolutely certain that this will work?"

Deus pursed his lips and nodded,

"It will work. Harry will be perfectly fine again and he'll be immortal."

Harry noticed the scepticism in Voldemort's gaze and spoke gently,

"It'll be fine. Everything will be alright."

Voldemort pressed a kiss to his lips and then spoke,

"What if it does not work?"

Deus spoke,

"I do have a backup plan. It shall be painful for both of you…a little more for Harry, and you shall have to stay apart but Harry will be able to return to you."

Voldemort spoke gently,

"What is it?"

Harry looked at Deus and asked,

"Tell us, Deus."

Deus lowered his gaze,

"You'll have to die and come to hell with me…"

Voldemort instantly spoke up,

"NO! ... NO! ...THAT IS UNACCEPTABLE!"

Harry held onto Voldemort tight,

"Listen to him…"

Voldemort shook his head,

"No, Harry…No…You are not going to die...You are not leaving me…You will not leave me ever…."

Harry cupped Voldemort's cheek and spoke gently,

"I love you…I won't leave you…It won't come to that, but we need a backup plan..."

He held Voldemort closer to him and looked over his shoulder at Deus,

"Thank you so much. You've done a lot for us."

Deus rose to his feet and smiled,

"I need to see you happy."

He vanished, and Harry worked on calming Voldemort and convincing him.


	111. Chapter 111

He leaned back in his seat and watched as Voldemort briefed his death eaters on their plans for Hogwarts. He didn't miss the concerned glances he shot his way after every five seconds and reassured him with his eyes. He was exhausted, but he tried not to let it show. The pain rose and fell in waves. When it was at its peak, he wanted to rip his hair out and scream at the top of his lungs and when it was mild, he just wanted to curl up and weep. Right now, it was somewhere between mild and intense and he was fighting it with everything he had in him because they were so close now. He couldn't give up now. Dumbledore was finally going to pay for all his transgressions. Hogwarts was going to be theirs very soon.

It had taken him a lot of effort to get Voldemort to agree to their plan B but he personally hoped that it wouldn't come to that. He didn't want to lose to death…he wouldn't. And on top of everything, he couldn't stand being away from Voldemort for a minute, let alone months. This past few days, he'd grown completely dependent on him. He needed him all the time and grew restless when he wasn't in his sights. Voldemort took special care to ensure that he stayed with him twenty-four-seven. He fed him, held him when he slept, took care of his potions and pills. He took so much care of him that sometimes he felt like he was a burden on him despite Voldemort's assurances that he wasn't.

He closed his eyes and bit back a cry as the pain worsened. It was taking him everything he had in him to hold back a cry and stop his hands from reaching for his stomach by burying his nails in the leather arm rests of the chair. He felt Voldemort's hands cup his face,

"Do not hold it in, Harry…Please…Let it out…"

He buried his face in his chest and screamed. Voldemort wrapped his arms around him and held him to his chest,

"It shall be alright…You shall be fine…"

When the pain had lowered to some extent, he just held on to Voldemort and kept breathing in his scent to assure himself that he was alive. Voldemort stroked his hair and spoke softly,

"Do you wish to go home?"

He shook his head and leaned back in the seat,

"I'm fine."

Voldemort ran his fingers through his hair and cupped his cheek with the other hand,

"Are you sure?"

He nodded silently and Voldemort went back to the briefing like nothing had happened. He knew what Voldemort's death eaters thought of him. They despised him and loathed him and probably prayed for his death day and night. The only reason they couldn't kill him themselves or hurt him was because they still feared Voldemort. They couldn't even look at him the wrong way without ensuring Voldemort's wrath.

He was trying his best to pay attention to what Voldemort was saying but couldn't. The pain took most of his focus and he fought it with every particle of his being. He was actually glad that they had an appointment with Emanuel today. A brief reprieve from the pain would certainly do wonders for him.

When the briefing was over and Voldemort had dismissed his death eaters, he came to stand beside him and kissed his forehead,

"I've told you a hundred times not to hide your pain."

He laughed softly and rested his head against Voldemort's chest,

"I don't like appearing weak in front of your death eaters."

Voldemort stroked his hair,

"You are not weak. You are stronger than the entire lot of them."

He rolled his eyes,

"You only say that because you love me."

Voldemort laughed gently and kissed his neck,

"You are right. I do love you but you really are stronger than them."

He pulled away and Voldemort kissed his lips and ran his fingers through his hair,

"I would take all your pain upon myself if I could."

He kissed his lips back and murmured,

"I would never let you take it."

Voldemort gently pulled him to his feet and spoke,

"We have an appointment with Emanuel. I hope you did not forget that."

He pouted and shook his head,

"I don't wanna go."

Voldemort rubbed his nose against his and whispered,

"You know I know it when you lie."

He wrapped his arms around Voldemort's shoulders as he pulled him up into his arms,

"Ready to go?"

He nodded silently and buried his face in the crook of Voldemort's neck as they apparated.


	112. Chapter 112

The flashes and bangs accompanied by the distant noise of the battle reached him, but he felt so utterly weak. He wanted to be a part of it. He wanted to be at Voldemort's side, but he understood that in his current state, he would have only hindered him. He shivered uncontrollably, and Deus stroked his hair gently,

"Relax…"

He fisted the covers and clenched his eyes shut as the pain peaked. A choked cry escaped his lips and Deus patted him on the cheek and whispered gently,

"It's going to be fine. Just a bit more…Harry, hang on…just a bit more…"

He tried to regulate his breathing and Deus attempted to help him with his magic but it wasn't working…it just wasn't working. He felt like he was tethering on the edge and just about to fall over the edge and into death's waiting arms. No…He had to be strong. Voldemort was out there fighting for him. He owed him this. He struggled to breathe and managed to get some oxygen into his aching lungs. He opened his eyes and saw the way Deus visibly relaxed,

"You're going to be fine."

He nodded and took in his dank surroundings. The shrieking shack hadn't been his choice. Voldemort was out there trying to infiltrate the castle with his death eaters and allies. He wanted to be there. He wanted him in his sights so that his heart would be satisfied that he was safe. They must have infiltrated the castle by now. They should have broken past Hogwarts defences by now. He hated each and every person that was siding with Dumbledore. Why couldn't they understand what a monster he was. Why couldn't they see past that mask? He was a bloody wolf in sheep's clothing. What if he hurt Voldemort in some way? Deus pulled the covers over up until his neck and assured him,

"He's alright."

He closed his eyes and shook his head,

"I'm scared… I'm really scared…"

Deus leaned over him and ran his hand through his hair,

"You need to be strong for him."

He nodded silently and listened to the sounds coming from Hogwarts' direction. Every bang…every explosion forced his breath to stutter and his heart to stop beating. Deus kept whispering reassurances to him through it all. When the noises started dying down, Harry felt like he would pass out any second from the tension that was clutching his soul.

When Voldemort finally appeared in the room, Harry couldn't help it. He jumped to his feet and fell into his arms. He buried his face in his chest and just focused on feeling his warmth as he sobbed ceaselessly. Voldemort held him up and took him back to the bed,

"Harry…Love…Calm down…"

He shook his head and clung to him. Voldemort smelled like smoke and blood but that did nothing to deter him. Voldemort pressed a kiss to his head and spoke gently,

"Ssshhh…Love…I'm here now."

He buried his face deeper into his chest, hoping to disappear inside of him. Voldemort ran his fingers through his hair and pulled him away from his chest gently. Deus handed him a glass of water and he held it to his lips,

"Drink, Harry."

He noticed the blood staining Voldemort's hand and his gaze shot up to his face. The left side of his face was coated in blood. Voldemort cupped his face gently and spoke,

"It is not mine…Drink…"

He drank the water down slowly and Voldemort vanished the glass before pulling him back to his chest. He couldn't help but cry,

"I was so terrified."

Voldemort only held him tighter,

"Is your faith in me really that weak?"

Harry closed his eyes and spoke softly,

"I love you…I love you so much…"

Voldemort rubbed his back gently and spoke,

"I love you too…Now, relax."

He relaxed against him and Voldemort held his wand to his throat and spoke,

"'You have fought valiantly. Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery. Yet you have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me, you will all die, one by one. I do not wish this to happen. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a loss and a waste. Lord Voldemort is merciful. I command my forces to retreat, immediately. You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured. I speak now, Albus Dumbledore, directly to you. You have permitted your minions to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If, at the end of that hour, you have not come to me, have not given yourself up, then battle recommences and this time I shall not rest until every single one of your follower is dead. Sacrifice yourself for the greater good, Dumbledore…Save your followers and give yourself up…One hour…"

Voldemort put away his wand and Harry couldn't help but ask,

"He won't give himself up."

Voldemort cupped his cheek and spoke gently,

"If he does not then I shall hunt him down and have him at your feet before the night is up. In any case, we shall be the ones to emerge victorious."

He closed his eyes and pressed a kiss to Voldemort's chest,

"We're meant to be together for eternity… We'll be together for eternity."

Voldemort stroked his hair soothingly and murmured,

"Indeed. When the sun rises tomorrow, it will mark the beginning of a new life for us."

He nestled his head in the crook of Voldemort's neck,

"So, are we going to the forbidden forest now?"

Voldemort nodded,

"Yes, we are."


	113. Chapter 113

Harry sat curled up in Voldemort's lap by the fire in the middle of the forbidden forest surrounded by death eaters, vampires, werewolves and the rest of their allies. He just knew that Dumbledore wouldn't show up. He was sure that Voldemort knew that too. Voldemort ran his fingers through his hair soothingly and murmured,

"Stop fretting, Love. I have told you that victory shall be ours regardless of the fact that Dumbledore surrenders or not."

He nodded silently and Voldemort pressed a kiss to the top of his head. The venomous glares he received stung his skin Sometimes, he couldn't believe that this was the same Voldemort who'd so openly hated him, who'd tortured him in that graveyard in front of all his death eaters. Today, he was displaying his affection so openly. He was being so tender with him in front of everyone who might have never considered him capable of it. He tipped his head back and pressed a brief kiss to Voldemort's lips,

"Whatever happens, I love you…I'll always love you…"

Voldemort's crimson eyes instantly glossed up with tears but he saw the way he clenched his jaw to hold them back,

"Yes, you will. We have an eternity to spend together and I am the only one you are allowed to love."

He closed his eyes and nuzzled his head into Voldemort's chest. The sound of the fire crackling and everyone's chattering proved to be the best background noise for him to relax. Voldemort continued to stroke his hair and spoke gently,

"Sleep, Harry."

He shook his head and fought it off. No…Voldemort didn't know what he was telling him to do. He wouldn't be able to wake up if he drifted off now. Voldemort tightened his arm around his waist and spoke,

"Nothing is going to happen to you…Nothing…I shall not allow it."

He turned his head and Voldemort kissed his lips again, renewing his will to live, revitalizing his soul, breathing life back into him and anchoring him down to this plane. Nicholai came to stand beside them and cleared his throat. Voldemort pulled his lips away from his before regarding Nicholai coldly. Nicholai spoke,

"The hour is nearly up."

Harry felt the way Voldemort visibly tensed against him,

"You should be glad about that, Nicholai. If the battle resumes, you shall get another chance to sate your unquenchable blood lust."

Nicholai nodded and spoke,

"That is all well and good but my people have suffered losses and I want compensation for that."

He rose to his feet and faced Nicholai,

"Compensation? You want compensation? Must I remind you of what I'm capable of? Must I reveal all the ways I humiliated you to your people? I'm sure they'll appreciate you a lot as a leader when they hear all about the ways I had you chained up and starved…."

Nicholai passed him a withering gaze. Harry was about to retort when darkness veiled his vision and he felt his knees give out. When his vision returned, he was out of breath and his heart was jack rabbiting in his chest. Voldemort was holding him tight in his arms,

"Harry, please. You need to rest. You need to breathe…"

He drew in several deep gulps of air and clutched Voldemort's robes tight. Nicholai spoke derisively,

"You're nothing now, Harry."

Voldemort clutched him tight and was about to say something when he clamped his hand over his mouth,

"No, Lover."

They couldn't afford to lose Nicholai's alliance now…not at this point. Voldemort was about to pull his hand away but he implored him with his eyes. Voldemort pressed a kiss to his palm and he slowly pulled his hand away. Voldemort finally spoke,

"I'm taking you back to the shrieking shack."

He wanted to argue. He wanted to accompany him but the way he'd just passed out...It wasn't viable. They were just about to apparate when the cracking of twigs and approaching footsteps caught their attention. Footsteps…They were far too many and Harry instantly knew that something was wrong. He pushed Voldemort down to the ground and collapsed over him just as a volley of flying curses swished over their heads.

Voldemort gripped his arm tight and tried to apparate but they were trapped. How could they have expected Dumbledore to play fair? Voldemort looked at him and the fear in his eyes just said at all. He tried drawing a portal but that didn't work either. Finally, he cupped his face and spoke,

"Don't worry about me."

Voldemort looked like he wanted to argue but he nodded his head silently before rising to his feet. Harry got up with him, The adrenaline pumping through his veins was the only thing keeping him on his feet at the moment. It took him everything he had in him to unleash the magic, Deus had taught him. The feeble cloud of black smoke that flowed out of his hands was soon joined by a more powerful and Harry looked to his side and found Deus standing by his side. With Deus's help, he maneuvered the smoke and watched with extreme satisfaction as their opponents choked to death on it. He ran his gaze around, looking for Voldemort and spotted him deeply engaged in a duel with Dumbledore.

Deus tugged at his arm, pulling his attention back to the battle that was going on all around him. It took them a while but they managed to enslave most of the order members while the rest were killed. The only duel that was still going on was between Voldemort and Dumbledore. Harry saw the strain showing on Voldemort's face and sought to help him but he didn't want to break his concentration. But if this went on, Harry was sure that Dumbledore would win. He tried to use his magic to intervene but it didn't work. When he looked beside him, the hopeless look on Deus's face told him that he'd attempted it as well. A wicked grin lit up Dumbledore's face and Harry's heart sank. No…No…No...It took everything he had inside him to shout out,

"STOP…PLEASE…STOP!"


	114. Chapter 114

The duel came to an abrupt halt and a hushed silence fell over everyone. Dumbledore's grin widened and he spoke,

"You cannot bear to see him lose, can you?"

He took a step forward and Voldemort spoke,

"Harry, do not take a step closer."

He ignored it. Voldemort would have lost if the duel had gone on and he couldn't bear that. He couldn't bear to see him hurt or worse. Dumbledore raised a silver eyebrow questioningly and he spoke,

"I'm willing to surrender, Professor."

Voldemort shouted,

"NO, HARRY…NO BLOODY WAY!"

Voldemort had raised his wand to cast a spell when Dumbledore disarmed him effortlessly. The wand caught Harry's eye and he ran his hand down his chest, feeling the bundle, that was the invisibility cloak, under his jacket. He needed that wand by any means possible. Dumbledore opened his arms,

"Come, Harry…Come closer…"

He took a few steps closer to Dumbledore until he was standing barely a feet away from him. Dumbledore signalled to his feet,

"Kneel and beg for forgiveness, Harry."

He went down on his knees effortlessly and spoke,

"Forgive me for everything, Professor."

Dumbledore chuckled darkly,

"Beg, Harry. You need to grovel at my feet…"

Voldemort spoke,

"No, Harry...Please…No…"

Voldemort was about to step closer to him but something stopped him…a barrier stopped him. along with the curses that were fired at Dumbledore by the death eaters. Dumbledore stepped closer to him and grabbed him by the hair. He closed his eyes and bowed his head,

"Kiss my feet, Harry…"

He balled his hands into fists and hesitated. Dumbledore's voice grew stern,

"DO IT!"

Dumbledore pushed his head down and he resisted,

"I can see that there is still a sliver of defiance left in you."

Dumbledore ran a hand down his back and he shivered involuntarily,

"Another lashing will certainly change that. Do you remember the last one?"

He didn't reply…couldn't…All he could think about was a way to get that wand,

"Do you remember?"

He nodded silently,

"Go on, Harry. Kiss my feet."

He lowered his head and brushed his lips against Dumbledore's flamboyant purple velvet shoes before lifting his head again. Dumbledore laughed and pushed his head back down,

"You belong there, Harry, don't you?"

He coughed and Dumbledore laughed,

"How long do you have, Harry?"

He didn't have an answer to that,

"How long?"

He murmured,

"I'm out of time."

Dumbledore grabbed him by the hair and pulled him up to his feet but he couldn't stay on them. His legs had no strength. Dumbledore's grip was the only thing keeping him upright,

"Open your eyes."

He opened his eyes and met Dumbledore's icy blue gaze,

"I shall not allow you to die, Harry…not yet…not until you have paid me back for all the disgrace you have brought upon me."

He tore his gaze away from Dumbledore's and stared at Voldemort standing on the other side of the barrier and shouting something. He passed him a wane smile and spoke,

"I love you so much."

Voldemort went quite but the tears that were flowing down his cheeks didn't stop. Dumbledore gripped his chin and spoke,

"Tell your lover to leave along with his forces."

He held Dumbledore's gaze and spoke as loudly as he could,

"You have to go, Lover."


	115. Chapter 115

Harry was tossed roughly onto the cold hard dungeon floor and he realized with a shudder that Dumbledore had apparated them to the space where he'd had him whipped.

He closed his eyes and curled up because despite the adrenaline flowing through his blood, he wanted Dumbledore to consider him weak. He wanted him to underestimate him and let his guard down. And that's exactly what happened when Dumbledore leaned down and grabbed him by the hair,

"Are you ready for one last lashing, Harry?"

He kept his eyes closed, waiting for the right moment and then it presented itself when Dumbledore dragged him back up to his feet and stood barely an inch away from him,

"I am fairly certain that you shall not survive it this time."

He took that as his moment to strike and gave it all he had to conjure up that darkness and wrap it around Dumbledore. Dumbledore fought it with all he had, and Harry's felt his will crumbling under Dumbledore's resistance. Voldemort's face swam in front of his eyes and it was the only thing that lent him the strength to keep Dumbledore restrained as he reached forward and snatched the wand from his hand.

The wand felt warm between his fingers but he didn't feel that sense of ownership over it yet. He allowed the darkness to vanish as he trained the wand on Dumbledore and spoke,

"You're wrong, Dumbledore…You're so wrong…I'll survive…I'll survive just like I did the last time…"

Dumbledore stared at him with nothing but venomous contempt and Harry could practically see the cogs turning in his head,

"You cannot use the wand, Harry."

He laughed loudly and snapped his fingers. The sword appeared in his hand,

"I don't need a wand. I will take my sweet time tormenting you."

Dumbledore laughed darkly,

"But that is the one thing that you so sorely lack…time…"

He swung the sword and Dumbledore's screams echoed around the space as he chopped off his right hand. He repeated that with his left and when Dumbledore was writhing on the floor, thrashing in his own blood, he closed his eyes and inhaled sharply when he felt the wand connect to some part of him. He was sure he still wouldn't be able to use it but he'd gained his purpose. Taking out the cloak from his jacket, he pulled it over his shoulders and made a shallow cut on the palm of his hand with the sword. Taking a deep breath, he began to chant the incantation that Deus had taught him,

"In morte sua O consecrat, dona mihi immortalitatis. Fac me dominus mortis….  
In morte sua O consecrat, dona mihi immortalitatis. Fac me dominus mortis…  
In morte sua O consecrat, dona mihi immortalitatis. Fac me dominus mortis…"

His breath stuttered several times during the entire ritual but he kept at it until he collapsed on his knees. When he looked up death stood inches away from him, its wings were stretched open and its eyes glowed ominously,

"Try as you may, you shall not succeed."

He ignored it and continued chanting the incantation over and over again until the hallows began to glow. He could feel death advance towards him and he closed his eyes. When his head hit the ground and he felt his throat closing up, he felt all his hopes shattering.

When he opened his eyes he found himself curled up in a pit that he could not hope to scale. Though he know there was light at the top it felt a million miles away,

"You are mine now, Harry James Potter."

He closed his eyes again, not bothering to deny that statement because he knew…he knew that death was right. He'd been defeated…He'd lost…

The despair was a heady blackness; the ways forward he had thought possible had vanished to black, not blocked, but like they were never there at all. The notion of hope had become meaningless, if his mind should linger on such ideas they started to feel like cruel tricks, as cruel as any desert mirage. The bonds that were tying him to life, the ones that kept his heart beating, felt so thin… so frail…so ready to snap…

"You have been an worthy adversary but now I have conquered you. Give in now…Rest…"

That sounded so tempting. He was about to oblige when a very familiar warmth enveloped him. Soft lips pressed against his temple,

"No, Harry…No…Don't give up…"

Rabastan pulled his head into his lap and showered him in kisses,

"What did I tell you about losing hope, Harry?"

He kept his eyes closed and fisted Rabastan's robes,

"I tried…I tried and I failed...I can't fight anymore, Rabi…I'm out of time."

Rabastan cupped his face and tiled his head,

"Look into my eyes…Look at me…"

He opened his eyes hesitantly and met Rabastan's steady gaze,

"Have you given up on avenging me? Will you allow death to take you as well?"

He shook his head and Rabastan smiled brilliantly,

"You will make it, Harry. I love you."

He pulled Rabastan's head down over his and kissed his lips, softly, tenderly…taking as much strength as he needed from the kiss before pulling away. Rabastan kissed his forehead and murmured against his skin,

"The last enemy to be abolished is death."

He raised himself into a sitting position and Rabastan chanted,

"In morte sua O consecrat, dona mihi immortalitatis. Fac me dominus mortis."

He closed his eyes and chanted with him over and over again and then it happened. He saw a blinding white illuminate everything from under his lashes and rose to his feet. When he opened his eyes, he saw Death took several steps away from him and he advanced closer,

"Kneel to your master,

He felt Rabastan's arm wrap around his waist and his lips on the back of his neck. His grin widened and he ordered,

"KNEEL!"

Everything obliterated to black as death knelt at his feet and dropped its wings in a sign of perfect submission.


	116. Chapter 116

When he opened his eyes again, he was laying curled up, where he'd lost consciousness. He blinked back the haze that clouded his vision and his sword came into clearer focus. He grabbed it and rose to his feet immediately. Taking a deep breath, he grinned when he didn't feel any of the usual pain he'd been suffering from. His lungs felt perfectly good…He could properly breathe again. That steady of thrum of energy that was flowing through his blood told him everything he needed to know about the success of the spell. The joy that he felt was truly indescribable.

Dumbledore's soft, barely audible pain filled groan attracted his attention and a bout of laughter burst from his lips,

"Oh, look at how the tables have turned."

He grabbed Dumbledore by his beard and pulled him up to face him,

"Look at me, Bastard...Look at me…"

He watched the way Dumbledore struggled to open his eyelids and repeatedly failed. He dropped him back on the floor and spoke,

"I told you I'll survive…I told you that I'll live…I told you that I'll make you pay…"

He ran his gaze around the dark dungeon and grinned,

"Well its time I made good on my word."

Dumbledore coughed and sputtered and Harry put his foot over his chest and pressed down,

"I won't let you die, Bastard. Death will not touch you without my permission."

He traced Dumbledore's cheek with his sword and laughed as Dumbledore shrunk away,

"Are you scared, Professor?"

Dumbledore didn't reply and Harry pressed his foot down on his chest before leaning down,

"Don't worry, Professor. I'll show you the same amount of mercy as you showed me."

He took a step few steps back from Dumbledore and regarded him coldly,

"This is so poetically just, isn't it? I was at your mercy all those days ago…You were standing exactly where I'm standing right now. All that's missing is a post and a whip…"

He couldn't finish the sentence because the door burst open with a loud bang and Harry took a step back. When the smoke cleared, Harry saw Voldemort standing in the doorway with his wand raised a look of utmost wrath on his face. It melted though when his gaze zeroed in on him and Harry fought back tears…They were tears of joy but they were tears nonetheless and he didn't want to appear weak in front of all of Voldemort's death eaters.

He lost it though when Voldemort wrapped him up in his arms and showered him with kisses. He buried his face in the crook of his neck, trying to hide the tears that just wouldn't stop flowing no matter how hard he tried. He replayed every pain attack, every agonizing moment he'd spent, and all the pain Voldemort had gone through with him. They'd done it. It was over. They'd survived. Voldemort only held him tighter as if to ascertain that he wasn't dreaming… as if he yearned to believe that it was all real.

Finally, when he'd cried his heart out, he gave Voldemort a gentle shove and spoke,

"Stop making me so sentimental, Lover."

Voldemort cupped his cheeks and leaned over him,

"Tell me this isn't a dream."

He grinned and playfully pinched Voldemort on the forearm,

"Does that feel real enough for you?"

Voldemort nodded vigourously and then pressed his lips to Harry's. Breath cut off in Harry's lungs and he melted against him. Everywhere. Voldemort's lips were firm and he tightened his hold on him and shoved a knee between his legs, grazing his balls and he groaned out. An invitation, Harry took him up on, tongue diving in between his parted lips, licking him. They shuddered as one. Moaned in sync. He felt Voldemort plunge his fingers in his hair and pull his head back but he refused to give up control of the kiss. He needed this. He needed to sink in, lose his head, his mind. He needed Voldemort…needed this…

They had an audience though but Voldemort was rubbing on him, wanton and hot, and Harry wasn't as strong as he thought he was. Definitely not strong enough to resist this, not when he wanted it, too.

Voldemort moaned. Harry would never deny the flare of pride and ownership that sound brought to his chest. The fact that he could make this man moan. Voldemort twisted his tongue around his, and Harry caught it, sucked hard. Voldemort shuddered for him, body vibrating between his legs.

Finally, Voldemort tore his mouth away, eyelids heavy, pupils dilated. Harry drew in a deep breath and stroked his cheek,

"I love you."

Voldemort's tone was husky, rough, and he didn't miss the satisfaction that flashed in his crimson eyes when he spoke,

"I love you too, Harry…I love you so much…"

Harry used the hand at Voldemort's nape to bring his head forward and touched their foreheads together,

"You're mine…just mine… We're together for an eternity now. You'll have to live with me forever now. Are you up for the challenge?"

Voldemort's tongue flicked out, laving Harry's chin,

"Yes. Forever and always…I am all yours."

He kissed Voldemort again, deeply, mouth hot and wet. He held Voldemort's head steady and plundered his mouth, claiming his taste, his smell, his everything. sinking deeper into him, raking his nails down his back.

Voldemort gasped into his mouth and Harry drank it down, cock hardening even more. The worst kind of torture. It was a shame they couldn't finish this now. Finally, he pulled away and cradled Voldemort's cheek who still seemed slightly drunk on the kiss,

"We have some matters to attend to before you can take me to bed."


	117. Chapter 117

Harry stood at the front of the Great Hall with Voldemort's arm draped around his waist. They'd been inseparable ever since Voldemort had gotten a hold of him in the dungeon. He'd been touching him in one form or another throughout the night as they'd dealt with the students and the Professors. Dumbledore was lying curled up at his feet and he kicked him hard just for the heck of it.

Voldemort pressed a kiss to his temple and the corner of his mouth lifted into a smirk,

"If you keep kissing me like that every five seconds, everyone will think that you're going soft."

Voldemort laughed softly and pulled him closer,

"You cannot fathom the extent of my happiness right now, Harry."

He rested his head on Voldemort's shoulder and spoke softly,

"I know, Lover…I know exactly what you feel…"

Voldemort ran his fingers through his hair and made a soft happy sound. He straightened up and looked at the packed hall in front of him. One half of it was occupied by the students and the staff and the other half was occupied by the death eaters and their allies.

He turned to look beside him and saw Nicholai staring at them venomously. He grinned at him brightly as he planned on how to make him disappear. There was no way he was going to allow Nicholai's earlier innocence to fly. But making an example out of him in public wasn't favourable. It was better to keep the vampires on their side.

Voldemort finally cleared his throat and an immediate silence fell. The overwhelming power that they exuded together now was intoxicating and it was taking him everything he had in him to resist the heedy urge to make Dumbledore a target of all that power. He didn't want to kill him yet. There was so much fun to be had. Voldemort spoke,

"As you can see, your angel…your saviour…your hero…Saint Dumbledore has been defeated…"

Cheers erupted from the death eater side and Harry smirked at the looks of utter despair he received from the staff and students' side. He crossed his arms over his chest and spoke,

"There are going to be some major changes here. You can keep your jobs if you swear your allegiance to us."

There was silence and he spoke again,

"I can assure you that none of you will be harmed if you make the smart decision."

He grinned and spoke,

"If you don't then you shall be joining your fellows in Azkaban. I shall have no qualms about letting you rot there."

There were hushed murmurs and whispers and he spoke,

"There's no hurry. You can take your time to decide."

He turned his attention to the death eaters and spoke,

"I don't think I need to remind you what will happen if you even attempt to cross me the wrong way."

Voldemort rested his hand on his shoulder and he instantly fell quiet,

"Anyone who even looks at my Harry wrong will suffer an excruciatingly painful death. I demand the highest level of respect from you for Harry. Anything less than that is unacceptable."

Voldemort announced the guard duty roster for the death eaters before dismissing everyone and when the hall was empty once again, he rested his head on Voldemort's shoulder and yawned. Voldemort rubbed his back gently and inquired softly,

"Tired?"

He nodded and Voldemort nuzzled his cheek,

"You can sleep as much as you want after you have locked up Dumbledore."

He nodded and grabbed Dumbledore by the beard before opening a portal for himself and passing through it. He deposited Dumbledore in a small 4x4 cell and made sure to apply all the enchantments he possible could. When he was done he stepped back and watched Voldemort reinforce them. He yawned again, and Voldemort instantly pulled him up into his arms. He wrapped his arms around his neck and allowed Voldemort to carry him upstairs to their bedroom.

He was laid down on the bed as gently as possible before Voldemort discarded his robes and climbed over him. He was showered in kisses and every inch of his visible skin was worshipped by Voldemort's lips and punctuated by proclamations of love.

He buried his face in the crook of Voldemort's neck and spoke gently,

"Rabi was there…"

Voldemort stilled and inquired gently,

"Where?"

Harry entwined their legs and fisted Voldemort's robes,

"When I was falling weak…When I nearly died... He was there…"

Voldemort stroked his hair gently and he spoke again,

"I wish I could bring him back. I'm master of death now…I should be able to bring him back…"

Voldemort rubbed his back and pulled him closer,

"He's happier where he is, Harry."

Harry knew Voldemort was right but every inch of him ached for him. But before he could dwell on it any longer Voldemort murmured,

"Relax. Close your eyes and sleep. You need some proper rest after the ordeal you've been through."

He closed his eyes and spoke,

"We…the proper word is we…"

Voldemort chuckled softly and whispered,

"Of course, my King. Whatever you say."

Harry grinned in satisfaction and nipped at Voldemort's neck,

"I love you."

Voldemort hugged him tight,

"I love you too."


	118. Last Chapter

Harry woke up to soft sheets and the wonderful warmth of Voldemort's body. It was still dark outside so either they'd slept too long or they hadn't slept at all. He sat up straight and relished the painlessness. He stretched and slipped out of bed to go to the bathroom.

When he returned, Voldemort was standing there. He was about to speak when Voldemort stepped closer to him and spoke,

"Do you have any idea how terrified I was when I woke up and you were not in bed?"

He tipped his head back and smiled coyly,

"I can see that but The Dark Lord isn't supposed to have a heart."

Lips brushed his and Harry closed his eyes.

"Open your eyes, Harry."

Harry opened his eyes just as Voldemort lifted his head.

"This Dark Lord has a heart, Love. And it is yours."

Voldemort caught his hand and brought it up to his chest. Over his heart,

"It beats for you."

Harry opened his mouth, breathing that way because everything felt so big. Everything felt so huge. Under his palm, Voldemort's heart beat steady. Strong. For him.

A gift he didn't deserve, but he was nothing if not selfish, so he grabbed on. Using those vibrations under his touch as lifeline, a way out of that freezing hell he'd fallen into and crawled out of.

Shaking. How could he not? He'd never been speechless before. Never handed himself over into someone else's safekeeping before. Voldemort trusted him with his heart after everything. He could do nothing other than reciprocate.

It took nothing at all. No effort to say,

"You're my heart too."

Easiest words he'd ever spoken. It was true what they said…whoever  _they_  were.

The truth made everything better.

When Voldemort grinned, Harry's pulse tripped all over itself. He stared and saw the flames that flickered and grew stronger. Burning for him. He yearned to kiss those lips but Voldemort got there first. Firm lips gentled over his and his tongue pushed inside. Licking. Taking the remnants of Harry's breath, heating him to boiling in no time at all. He clung to him, shuffling closer on legs that seemed iffy on holding him upright. Lucky for him, Voldemort gripped him tight.

Lucky for him.

All the trust he'd vowed to never give anyone, he gifted to the man who'd once been his mortal enemy. Heads twisting this way and that as they ate at each other. Harry moaned, hips jerking. Body aching in that uniquely intoxicating way he attributed to Voldemort.

Voldemort brought his hand down between their bodies, yanking on Harry's shirt, pushing it off his shoulder before flattening his hand over his torso. Harry grunted into his mouth then bit down on his bottom lip. Sharp. Painful.

He held on while putting a hand on top of the one Voldemort touched him with. Circling his wrist and dragging his touch down. Down. Past a hard, flat stomach that contracted for him. Down. To his crotch, over the bulge in his black pants that throbbed under Voldemort's palm.

Voldemort squeezed him, and Harry made a whimpery-grunt sound. Voldemort fumbled with the fly of his pants, yanking on them. Fingers uncooperative as he drew the zipper down and reached inside.

Harry moaned into his mouth, low and long, hips pushing his shaft into Voldemort's palm,

"Lover…"

Voldemort stroked him, his already wet shaft getting soaked with each stroke up and down. Harry thrust into his fist, hips slamming forward.

Grunts.

His.

Theirs.

Voldemort begged,

"Let me love you."

Harry lifted his head to squint down at him with low-riding eyelids,

"Can I stop you, Lover?"

He eased himself in and out of Voldemort's fist slowly, cock so hard. Throbbing. Voldemort whispered,

"Yes…Yes you can stop me with a word…a look…a sound…You are the only one who can. He hold that power over me."

Harry shook his head and spoke,

"I'm yours…Completely yours…"

Voldemort smiled, and Harry knew then that no matter how many times he smiled, he'd always see it as a first. It would always hit him square in the chest. The gesture would always put his knees to the floor.

Voldemort finally spoke with desperation inside his voice,

"I want to be inside you. I want your legs around me and you on your back."

Harry's lashes were lowered, but he knew that Voldemort felt his reaction to those words. The swelling of his erection, the whoosh of his breath across Voldemort's cheek.

"So, take what's yours."

* * *

He took that offering, stripping Harry in record time before pushing him backward on the bed and climbing him. Hot skin wrapped around him as he devoured Harry's mouth.

He'd never made love to someone he loved, who loved him. Their first night didn't count because they'd both been too lost in lust.

So even as he licked his way up and into Harry's mouth, he tried to make himself slow down. Tried telling himself to savour. The fingers scraping his spine, he arched into them. They made him moan and grind against Harry's thigh.

Lips that broke away from his to glide down the length of his throat, he leaned into the touch. Breath shaking, grabbing on tight to the sheets on either side of them.

Harry bucked under him, cock as hard as Voldemort's. Begging for it with every lift of his hips off the bed.

Voldemort held himself still long enough to look down at Harry. His skin glistened already with a fine sheen of sweat. Face flush, lips parted as he panted. Voldemort kissed him again. Harry was truly addicting. There was something about feeling Harry's lips under his. Something about their bodies writhing. Something about the way they gave each other pleasure.

He loved it.

Voldemort stroked Harry's chest then bent, licking the path his fingers took. Tasting salty skin, biting nipples.

Heavy with want and desire. Harry's voice was a bloody weapon,

"Lover…"

Voldemort shuddered, licking his way down Harry's torso. Fingers in his hair pulled tight, forced him lower. He went with his mouth open and his eyes closed. Tasting cock, sucking it down as Harry thrust, and Voldemort thrust into the bed.

"Don't stop…"

He gave Voldemort those words. Dripping like bloody honey down his spine,

"Don't stop…"

Voldemort would have chuckled at that, but his mouth was full. He hollowed his cheeks, dipped his head, grunting when Harry throbbed on his tongue. Eyes rolling back at the taste of him. He brought his slick fingers slower, circled Harry's hole. Trembling thighs lifted to the sky. He dipped in.

"Damn…"

Harry pushed back on the digit, rolled his hips.

His heartbeat was thundering in his ears but not loud enough to drown out Harry's cries. Words he didn't even understand. He was pretty sure they made no sense.

He pushed his fingers into him until his knuckles ached. Then he pulled away quickly, surfacing only to wipe his face with the back of his hand and conjure the lube.

Harry looked satiated already, and he hadn't even made him come yet. Voldemort wanted to wait until he was inside him. He gritted,

"Legs around me."

Damn, he wanted to go slow, but now wasn't the time. Every slide of Harry's hot skin against his ripped control away. He wanted inside. Wanted to rut. Wanted to spill. Legs wrapped around his hip.

He tossed the lube away and brought himself to Harry's hole. Harry flinched. Voldemort smoothed a hand over his knee. He forced words past his locked throat,

"I simply cannot go slow for you, My love. Want you. Want your body."

Harry moaned out,

"Take me."

Voldemort surged forward. His hands shook. Harry's body trembled. Tip to his hole, Voldemort held his breath. Pushed in. And Harry pushed back. He slid in and immediately lost the ability to breathe.

Harry uttered a soul-deep growl.

"Damn it…"

He went in, eyes closed. The heat,

"Nothing better."

And he hadn't even bottomed out yet. Eyes flying open, he pinned Harry in place with a stare.

"Nothing is better than you."

Harry's expression was all hunger and pain. And Voldemort got off on both. He buried himself with one deep thrust, noting the flare of Harry's nostrils and the tightening of his legs. His chest heaved, and for a second there shock flashed across Harry's face.

Voldemort circled his hips, lowering himself with one hand next to Harry's head, he whispered,

"Hang on."

He reared back and slammed in. Harry cried out. Voldemort hissed. Harry's body fisted around him, choking him. Hot and tight, and every time he moved, Voldemort had to fight his orgasm. He thrust in and out, shoving his tongue inside Harry's mouth, claiming him in every possible way.

Harry matched him stroke for stroke, hand on his hips, fingers digging in. He better leave his marks…He wanted Harry to leave his marks on his body.

They devolved to just grunts and growls, even those muted because they stayed in each other's mouths. Harry as greedy as him. Hands and mouths everywhere.

And Voldemort, pounding in and out. He loved it…every bit of it. He told Harry that too. Or at least he tried, because Harry didn't release his mouth to allow to him to talk.

Talking was overrated.

Harry shoved a hand between them to stroke himself off. Body arching, he came with a garbled sound that Voldemort ate, sticky cum immediately gluing them together. His toes curled into the mattress as the spasms hit, locking his limbs while the orgasm ripped through him.

Under him, Harry shuddered, grabbing on to Voldemort' shoulders with a grunt.

"Me inside you."

He wasn't sure if his tongue was working, but Voldemort tried.

"That is me inside you."

He collapsed onto Harry's heaving chest. Arms went around him immediately and he hummed in blissful satisfaction. Harry murmured softly,

"Give me five minutes and we're doing that again."

He laughed hoarsely and ran his fingers through Harry's sweat damp hair,

"Slow down, Love. We have an eternity."

Harry huffed softly,

"Don't care… I want you again and again and again…"


	119. Epilogue... Sort of....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys have been seriously amazing and extremely supportive. I never expected Elusion to garner so much love. I am so grateful to all of you for sticking to it till the end… Well this isn't the end… I might write some more chapters like this one if inspiration strikes. Anyways I never properly thanked you guys for all your love and support and I'm very certain that no words can ever express how much I appreciate your devotion. Thank you for sticking around through all the twists and turns…all the angst and tears…Love you all.

"I could not have dreamed up a better welcome home."

Harry looked at Voldemort leaning against the open doorway to the bathroom and couldn't stop his grin. It had been two months since he'd laid eyes on the man in person and even in wrinkled clothes with dark circles under his eyes, he was a fantastic sight. He wore the black dress robes embroidered with fine green and silver silk, Harry had gotten him for an early Christmas present. They had cost him a small fortune, but it was worth it. And to see Voldemort wearing them after he'd been out of the country…

His body started reacting immediately when Voldemort began taking them off.

Naked was always better with Voldemort.

Harry sat up in the ridiculously huge bathtub and rubbed suds off his chest as he watched all that gorgeous skin being revealed,

"No giving me a hard time about the bubble bath. Being master of death is no easy job and every muscle in my body is pissed."

Voldemort's hands halted at the zipper of his pants,

"So maybe company isn't such a good idea?"

Harry gasped,

"Are you kidding? Most of the pain disappeared the second I saw you."

Plus, it looked like Voldemort needed the tub and some serious cuddle time.

Crimson red eyes narrowed as he slowed the striptease down. He opened the fly of his slacks, then slid both hands inside the material and down his hips. Harry swallowed hard, eyes locked on the gorgeous body he never tired of seeing. Voldemort was seriously fit, and though Harry knew he was no slouch in the fitness department, Voldemort had him beat with sheer size. Voldemort gave Harry a fantastic backside view as he finished removing his pants. Harry's gaze locked on his ass and stayed.

Voldemort looked over his shoulder, pegging Harry with a curious gaze and a mysterious smile when he saw where Harry was looking. He turned, slowly approached the bathtub and climbed in, sitting on the other side to face Harry. Immediately, he slipped wet legs around Harry's to trap him against him even as he winced,

"It's too hot."

Smirking, Harry leaned back and relaxed, sliding the outside of his legs along Voldemort's,

"Hot is the best."

The sultry grin that stretched Voldemort's lips sent even more heat spiraling into Harry. Then Voldemort leaned his head back and closed his eyes, a tired sigh slipping from his lips. Steam began to curl the black hair around his forehead.

Damn, it was good to see him. It was the longest they'd been apart since they'd gotten together and Harry hadn't been prepared for how lonely he'd felt. He put his hands under the water and rubbed Voldemort's shins, digging his fingers into thick calf muscles to massage away tension and drag a long, deep moan out of Voldemort.

One eye opened and the lazy smile playing on Voldemort's lips made his heart stutter. Voldemort moved one foot to Harry's crotch and rubbed his toe down his hard dick,

"Missed me?"

Harry whispered, breath hitching as Voldemort nudged his foot under his balls. Maybe Voldemort wasn't too tired for more after all.

"A lot."

Voldemort pulled his foot completely free of Harry's crotch and lunged across the tub to take his mouth. Damn, the man could kiss. He kissed the way he did everything else, with a ruthless, conquering drive that gave him the upper hand. He took control and never apologized. Harry was completely addicted to it and didn't see a time in his future when he wouldn't be. He opened his mouth, pulled Voldemort's hard body close and shuddered when his hard, wet cock slipped along his own.

When he finally came up for air, he nuzzled Voldemort's sweaty neck, licked at the salty skin. He whispered, thrusting his hips up to rub against him,

"I missed you so bloody much."

Groaning, Voldemort turned and took his mouth again, pushing his tongue into Harry's mouth over and over until he grew dizzy with need. He loved Voldemort wet. Stroking his hand over his slippery back and down, he grabbed his hips and thrust against him. Two months. It had been way too long. He hated to be away from him even for a night.

He pulled back, gasped air into his starving lungs and rolled his hips against Voldemort as he tried to gather his thoughts,

"You haven't started dating someone else, have you?"

Voldemort went still, pulled back. He was panting, his pupils blown and it looked like it took him a second to gather his thoughts,

"Have you lost your mind."

Harry snickered,

"Nope."

Voldemort said, rolling his eyes as if he refused to acknowledge that that was even a possibility,

"I love you…Only you…"

His cheeks turned faintly red, which could have come from the steam. He loved hearing Voldemort say that. It was his favorite thing to hear. He slid farther down into the water and worked his legs out until Voldemort fell between them. He grabbed his ass and pressed him back against him—this time with his legs open as wide as the bathtub would let him. Luckily, it was a big tub.

Another groan rumbled from Voldemort as he slid strong hands underneath Harry to lift him into his body. Crisp, wet pubic hair rubbed against his cock and Harry threw his head back—cracking it on the edge of the tub. Hard.

"Damn…"

Low chuckles puffed air across his cheek before Voldemort's mouth was back against his. Voldemort asked between kisses.

"Are you fine?"

"Yeah."

Was all Harry could get out. The man was scrambling his brain, sending more heat into his body than the ridiculously hot bath he'd drawn,

"We need to get out, so you can claim me."

Voldemort shuddered, then reached down to wrap his long fingers around Harry's cock. He squeezed, let go, then grabbed the soap off the side of the tub. He watched Harry as he rolled the soap in that hand. Over and over until it was white with thick foam.

Harry held his breath, licked his lips. Voldemort's gaze flicked down to watch. He murmured,

"It has been two long, bloody months. If I get you off now, do you think you will be ready for another round in a few?"

He dropped the soap and shoved his hand back into the water to grab Harry's dick again. This time, his hand slipped up and down easily as he squeezed. Harry panted,

"Can't…Talk."

Voldemort's smug grin was hot, then he increased the speed of his hand and came back down to mercilessly attack Harry's mouth again. He licked into it over and over until Harry got lost in a haze of pleasure that pulled a groan out of him that felt like it came from his toes and travelled through his entire body. He pulled back and cried out as the pleasure drew up his balls and made him shoot into the hot, soapy water. He shuddered and shook and moaned over and over before opening his lips against Voldemort's and sucking his tongue deep into his mouth.

Dizzy, he fell back against the tub again and had to fight to open his eyes. He was relying on Voldemort to keep his head above the water because his muscles were bloody useless. When he finally gathered his strength and flicked his gaze up, Voldemort was staring down at him with an expression that was full of love and affection.

And right then, what he was feeling, made Harry curl his toes in the hot water and stare. His belly tightened and his dick actually gave a jerk as if it was already trying to fill again. Hell, if anyone could bring it back to life that fast, it would be this man. This one man who had changed everything. This man who had rocked his world to its core. Harry spoke,

"Let's take this to bed. You can bury yourself inside me and forget all about the last couple of weeks."

Voldemort finally let go of his cock, but he caressed it gently goodbye as he moved his hand away

"I want that. I want that badly."

"Come on."

Harry waited until Voldemort sat back before climbing out of the tub. He handed Voldemort the towel he'd set out for himself, grabbed another and watched as he stood. Water sluiced down all those beautiful muscles and Voldemort never took his gaze off Harry as he dried himself.

He dropped the towel on the floor and backed through the doorway, grinning as Voldemort stepped out of the tub and sped up his towel. He tossed it and prowled toward Harry, wrapping his arm around his waist and literally lifting him off his feet as he growled and took the last few steps to the bed. He dropped Harry onto the soft comforter, stalked to the bedside table. Harry waited until Voldemort had crawled across the bed to hover over him.

"Missed you so bloody much, Love"

Harry grinned and Voldemort lifted on eyebrow, muscles tightening,

"What did you do?"

Harry's grin widened,

"I came here a month ago, but you weren't here. I buried my face in your pillow, inhaled your scent, and brought myself off with my hands."

He made sure to tighten his fingers at the bottom of Voldemort's cock. Just the way he liked it. Voldemort closed his eyes, thrusting into his fist,

"You jerked off in our bed while I was gone?"

"Yeah,"

Harry breathed, stroking the man's dick slowly, steadily,

"I did."

He tightened his fingers again,

"I took the pillow away with me. I'm pathetic. A sap. Or an addict."

"Not pathetic… Damn…"

He moved his hips so his cock moved hard in Harry's hold,

"Hurry and spread your legs. Just the thought of you jerking off has me ready to come."

Harry spread his legs and groaned when hot, lubed fingers found his ass. Voldemort rubbed and stroked and finally, finally thrust a finger inside him. Nothing on this earth felt as good as Voldemort moving inside him. Nothing.

"You have no idea how hard it is for me to live without you."

He leaned down and buried his nose in Harry's neck. Harry could only groan because he wanted it too. Badly. He wanted to feel that stretch. That burn. He wanted his man plowing into his body, stroking him from the inside. Hard. Until he did that thing where he sped up and held his breath because it was so damn hot, it always made Harry come like it was the first time.

Voldemort got up to three fingers while he opened his mouth over Harry's neck, collarbone and shoulder. He pressed them deep, crooked them, and grinned when Harry arched up off the bed.

Within seconds, he was pulling out, coming over him and pushing inside with a long, drawn-out groan,

"I love you so much,"

Voldemort breathed, pressing deeper.

Harry spread his legs, lifted his hips, and reached out to bunch the sheets into his fists. He stretched his head back into the pillow and shoved his hips up to meet Voldemort's thrusts. He couldn't believe how much he loved this, how much everything affected him…the pain, the mind-numbing pleasure. Voldemort hit his prostate, stroking over it until Harry saw stars.

He let go of the sheets, clutched Voldemort's hips, and yelled his head off as another orgasm ripped through his body. Words poured from his lips, but he hadn't a clue as to what they meant. Voldemort loved pushing him until he babbled like an idiot.

Voldemort let out a hoarse cry…a helpless sound that drew another wave of pleasure from Harry's body. Knowing he brought this powerful man to this…this level of release and vulnerability…

Voldemort collapsed on him, kissing his jaw, his mouth, even his nose,

"I missed you,"

He whispered over and over even as more shudders shook his body. He finally rolled to the side but pulled Harry half under his body, tucking him in like he didn't plan to move all night.

Harry couldn't help but chuckle when a soft snore sounded in his ear moments late. He'd been so homesick…

Homesick…That was something he'd never thought he'd feel. But Voldemort had given him a home. He'd given him a place to return to… He'd given him everything he'd never thought he'd feel.

Voldemort pulled him closer in his sleep, tightening his leg around Harry's thigh and his arm around Harry's chest.

Sighing, he felt sleep hovering along the edges of his mind and this time, he knew he'd get some real rest. Yeah, he was turning into a sap. But he didn't care. From the way the man was holding him, it seemed Harry wasn't the only one who'd felt ripped in half during their time apart.


End file.
